Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shadow Weaver is born on a ship bound for Salineas, and her mother is not prepared for it. A terrible storm rages all around them and lightning rains from the sky echoing the torrent of anger felt inside the boat itself.

When her mother holds her newborn for the first time, she feels no instant connection with the child like everyone had told her she would—it is, in fact, the opposite as the baby opens her mouth to reveals a mangled, broken tongue and an unnatural scream. Its cries are coarse, choked like it can’t make any sound properly, and it’s horrifying to look at.

“What could I have ever done to deserve that?” The baby’s mother, a once beautiful and respected elven woman named Thana shrieks, taking up some of the blood-soaked blanket from the bed and covering her daughter’s face, glancing up to the ceiling and trying to block out the sound.

A year ago, she had been a dancer in the far north of Etheria, she had been mistress to a rich nobleman and was dripping head to toe in rubies and diamonds and slept on beds of gold. The only rubies she has now are the drops of blood that are still slowly seeping from her torn and ruined body. A small mercy: perhaps if she bleeds out then she won’t have to deal with the disfigured child born of an illicit affair.

Thana recovers, though, and her life with the child is not over.

She raises her daughter, who she named Desdemona in the hope that a beautiful, long name might take away from her marred appearance and makes a mask over her mouth as they go from inn to inn in Salineas until she runs out of options and moves around some more. The girl never learns to talk, likely isn’t able to, and even though once she reaches age five she becomes useful to make some money here and there she truly is the bane of Thana’s existence. Leaving her at an orphanage probably would have been an easier option but Thana is nothing if not possessive—she is a woman with nothing save a broken child and she’ll be damned before she uses that for all it’s worth.

When Desdemona is six, they move to Bright Moon where her mother has managed to secure herself a position gardening at the palace. Desdemona enjoys it in her new home, where the other servants take the time to understand what she’s trying to tell them, and she gets to spend her days either helping the friendly cooks make food or be outside growing plants with her mother, something that—if nothing else—does give the older woman a certain air of calm she can find nowhere else. The servants teach her to read and to write, which makes her life infinitely easier, and how to sow and dance and play card games.

Sometimes her mother lets her keep a daisy, and that makes her cheerful.

The first time Angella sees her, she is still a child herself.

Old enough to understand that, with her parents being king and queen of Bright Moon, her childhood isn’t what most would consider normal yet young enough to remain jealous of some of the smaller things she sees the other children in Bright Moon have from her bedroom window. She sees them all go to school in groups, play together, be friends with each other all day long while she remains up in the castle, private tutors and hundreds of toys but not a playmate in sight. She doesn’t mind, not always, and knows that her parents have a lot of responsibilities that don’t always give them time to play with her but can’t help wishing that people had a little more time for her sometimes.

Playing by yourself gets boring after a while.

This is why she gets so excited when she first sees another child in the gardens—a little girl, helping one of the gardeners tend to the roses. Angella can barely contain herself as she jumps out of her window, wings flapping so erratically that she nearly falls on her way to meet this new stranger she hasn’t seen around before.

At the sight of the young princess, the gardener stands with her eyes wide and bows, as they all must. “Princess! How lovely to see you.” The gardener looks towards the other girl and slaps her on the back of her head, hard enough to make Angella wince. “Show some respect, this is the princess!” She hisses.

“Oh, that’s okay!” Angella says quickly, biting her lip. “It’s only, I’ve never seen someone else my age here before and I was wondering if she might like to play with me.” It’s only then she really takes in the girl properly and wonders why she’s wearing a mask over her mouth. Is she sick? Is something wrong with her?

“Oh, Desi wouldn’t be a good playmate, princess.” The gardener tells her. “She’s only here because the kitchens didn’t need her, and she’ll need to work if she wants to earn her keep.”

Angella frowns. “Oh. Well, don’t you get breaks?” She directs the question at the girl herself who’s eyes are wide in alarm as she looks up at the gardener.

“Not today, princess. I’m sorry.” The gardener tells her more firmly, the young princess shivers and realises that she isn’t going to get anywhere further with this. She’s not about to force the girl to play with her and it’s not like she was speaking up against the gardener in favour of it, so leaves them to get back to work.

Later, when her parents have left her alone again to play in her room while they meet with the treasurers, Angella thinks about the girl with the mask again. It’s too late for the gardeners to be out now, and the cooks will be all done too, so she’s bound to be free to play now even if the gardener is being weird about it. Deciding that she’ll check again, Angella picks up three of her favourite dolls and marches out of her room with the intention of heading straight to the servant’s quarters.

It occurs to her not two minutes after that that she has no idea where the servant’s quarters are, so after a brief stop asking for directions from one of her guards, she starts right back down with her dolls clutched tightly in her arms.

There are lots of people in the servant’s quarters when she gets down there, much more than she expected, and they all freeze the second she makes an appearance. She hadn’t really thought about how much staff the castle needs just to run on a day to day basis, beyond guards and a cook and a gardener—but here there are maids and footmen and cleaners and…well, she doesn’t actually know what a lot of these people do. Someone she does recognise is her nanny who, looking a little nervous, runs to her and places a hand gently on her shoulder. “Angella, dear, you shouldn’t be here. Where are your parents?”

“They’re doing grownup things. I wanted to see if the other little girl wanted to play now.” She says. “Do you know where she is?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know…” The nanny looks up at some of the other people who shrug. “Do you mean Thana’s daughter?”

“Is she the gardener? Because she was gardening earlier, and she wears a mask over her mouth. Do you know if she’s free right now?”

The nanny opens her mouth and then firmly shuts it again, standing up to her full height. “I…don’t see why not. She’ll be in her mother’s room…but, you should know Angella, she’s not really like other girls.”

The truth is that Angella doesn’t really know what ‘other girls’ are supposed to be like given the fact she’s barely spent any time around children her age so is really prepared to accept anything, even if this girl is a bit ‘different’. She beams at her nanny. “Yay! Where is she?”

She gets pointed in the direction of a red-tinted door and wastes no time bursting in to find the masked little girl facing the fireplace. She turns around and her green eyes widen in alarm.

“Hi! I’m Angella, you might remember me from earlier, and I was wondering if you wanted to play now if you’re not doing anything else? I brought my dolls, you can use them too if you like, this one’s called Electra and she’s my favourite because she can teleport from one place to another like this—” She makes a whooshing sound and throws the doll across the room, running after to catch it and a smile. “See! Do you want to have her?”

She offers the toy to the other little girl who’s just starring at her wide eyed and unmoving. Slowly, she reaches out and takes the doll from the princess, regarding it like an alien artefact. “Sorry, my mum says I talk way too much! What’s your name?”

The girl’s face falls, and she makes a gesture over her mouth with her hand, which Angella frowns at. She gestures behind her, to where the fireplace is burning. “Is it…fire? Are we playing charades? Oh, I love that game!”

She shakes her head again and points to the base of the fireplace, the princess crawls over to look curiously. With her free hand, the girl draws out letters in the soot that read ‘Desdemona’.

“Is that your name?” Angella asks, and Desdemona nods. “Can you not talk? Is that why you wear a mask?”

A smile that Angella can’t see reaches the girls eyes so the princess smiles back. “It’s a really pretty name! I’ve never heard it before.”

Desdemona nods and writes out ‘Desi’ in the soot—Angella thinks she remembers the gardener calling her that. “Is that your nickname?” The girls nods. “Well, Desi,” She starts, standing up her other dolls next to her on the floor. “Do you wanna play with me?”

She looks contemplative for a second and then nods, firmly, moving the dolls legs as the make her approach Angella’s.

When Angella tells her parents all about her new friend they are relatively unbothered, happy that their daughter has found a friend within the castle so long as it doesn’t disturb her lessons. Desi’s mother is less pleased—mostly because her useless daughter is certainly not fit company for a princess, and it’s bound to end badly (or, that’s what she tells herself. Her spite is more borne of jealousy, jealousy that her lame daughter gets the attention and appraisal of royalty while she’s stuck working on her hands and knees). But there’s not much she can do about it other than keep Desi working for as long as possible, and even then, the cooks often take pity on the little girl often and let her go early despite Thana’s incessant reminders not to do so.

It's not that she hates her daughter—she loves her, she thinks, that’s not a choice really, is it? The annoyance lies in the fact that she deserves more than her daughter, natural selection and all that, and for whatever reason that fates have decided to flip the scales.

One night, when Desi is about nine, Angella sneaks down to the servant’s quarters and shakes her awake.

The elven girl yawns and covers her mouth, quickly realising that someone who’s not her mother has woken up and—oh no I’m not allowed to let anyone see me without my mask!—it’s still dark outside, and…is that the princess? She snatches her mask from the floor beside her and puts it right on, relieved that it’s dark enough that the princess wouldn’t be able to see.

Angella doesn’t bother telling her to be quiet, it’s her default. “Come with me!” The princess whispers, holding her hand out for the elven girl to take. Hesitantly, with the knowledge that her mother will never let her live this down if she finds out, Desi claps the Angella’s hand to let herself be dragged out of the servant’s quarters and up the stairs, up and up until her little legs hurt and her chest is starting to burn a little but it all seems worth it when she realises what her friend is taking her to see.

They’ve climbed up to the roof which overlooks all of Bright Moon. From here, Desi can see every house, shop, fountain and tower—every park and tree and animal in the light of the soft, pink streetlamps. She blinks and she tilts her head forward, never having seen the three moons look as beautiful and clear as they do that night.

“Aren’t they amazing?” Angella says, clasping Desi’s hand in her own and clutching it tight.

Desi nods excitedly and points up to the purple one.

“That’s my favourite too. Sometimes I just wish I could fly up there and look at everything from super far away. Do you think, if I did, you’d be able to see me from the roof?”

She smiles and shakes her head, taking Angella’s hand and tracing the letters t-r-y i-t.

“I’ve never flown further than the woods before.” She bites her lip. She doesn’t think she could actually get up to the moon but maybe going for a fly isn’t such a bad idea, since it’s such a nice evening, and maybe…

“Would you like to fly with me?” Angella asks, and Desi’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm. Angella laughs. “I promise I won’t drop you, I’m way stronger than I look. And my parents never have time to fly with me anymore, it’s not so fun alone. You might like it, if you like seeing everything from up here already.”

Her friend looks at her sceptically, but then finally nods. She does trust Angella, after all, and it would be cool to fly—it’s something every child dreams about, but, Desi supposes, not everyone has the luxury of a winged best friend. The princess beams and stands up. “Okay, so, I’m going to wrap my arms around you—like, that, yeah—and then you need to make sure you hold on.”

Making sure that Desi’s got a tight grip, Angella slowly takes off, her wings beating at a slow pace to get the off the ground before she starts to pick up the pace, soaring up towards the moons. The servant girl closes her eyes to start with, trying to appreciate the feeling of the wind blowing in her face and hair, absorb this new sensation which must be once in a lifetime, before she opens her eyes and sees the moon above, and the city below—smaller and rushing by her like nothing she could have ever imagined, so much more incredible than any of her dreams.

Her masked mouth opens in awe, her eyes twinkling in appreciation.

Angella turns in the direction of the forest—it always looks beautiful at night, especially when all the moons are out, and drop down a little lower so Desi can run her hand along the tops of the trees. She ends up landing on a particularly tall tree, making sure that Desi’s got a secure foothold and grip before she drops her, of course, so they can appreciate the forest, which she knows her friend has never actually been near before, too. Technically, she’s not supposed to land this far out into the woods since the Fright Zone is on the other side, and her family has never gotten on very well with the black garnet’s owners but they’re hardly going to see two children and see them as a threat, so decides that it’s worth it.

(And besides, it’s not like her parents are ever going to find out).

Desi leans forward from her perch and grips Angella’s hand tightly, her eyes shining in gratitude for her friend.

“You’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world, you know that?” Angella tells her, beaming. Desi doesn’t need to be able to tell her Angella for the princess to know that she returns the sentiment exactly, and nothing could make her happier.

Over the next few years, Desi and Angella become inseparable much to the former’s mother’s chagrin. They come up with a language comprised of hand signals to communicate better, and for Angella’s twelfth birthday are granted permission to move up to Angella’s quarters together which excites them both greatly.

It almost doesn’t occur to Desi that, given that permission was given from the King and Queen themselves, that her own mother might have a problem with it.

Desi’s packing up her minimal possessions (most of which are gifts from Angella herself over the years) in a little bag when her mother storms into the room before realising that aggression probably isn’t the best way to get what she wants. Instead, she leans down to be of height with her daughter, raising her hand to gently cup her cheek. “Desi, my darling,” She says in the softest tone she can muster. “You’re not actually going to leave me, are you? You don’t really want to leave your poor mother down here all on her own?”

Her mother never bothered to learn the signs, so the girl just nods.

“I just think it would be safer for you to stay down here, my sweet.” She frowns, making her lip tremble a little. “I know it seems like you and Angella are best friends now, but you have to remember that she’s a princess and you’re just a little servant girl, she’ll leave you eventually and then you’ll have nothing. Stay down here and be with me instead, you’re my daughter and I’d never leave you. You love me, don’t you?”

Desi puts her bag down and melts into her mother’s arms, holding her tight. She doesn’t do so because she’s going to stay and comply, rather the contrary, because she knows it’s unlikely she’ll be getting many more hugs after this and she really does like it when her mother holds her. She inhales her mother’s scent, trying to hold it in a special place in her memory, and then pulls back.

Her mother tucks a strand of her long, ebony hair behind her ear. “So, you’ll stay, my lovely? You’ll stay with your mother?”

Desi takes her mask off and tucks in her belt, an act that startles her mother greatly—the woman who insisted she wear it in the first place, to highlight to the world that she’s not to be spoken to—and shakes her head.

The screech that her mother emits is not something easily forgotten.

Desi does not put her mask back on.

Moving upstairs does not stop Desdemona trying to be near her mother, and she returns periodically down to the servant’s quarters to see her. All the other staff, who have known her ever since she first came to Bright Moon as a small child, are always delighted to see her and Desi does enjoy their company greatly but cannot help wanting the attention of her brooding mother who makes an active effort to give her the cold shoulder for what feels like forever after.

Angella emerges from her wardrobe in a poufy pink gown with enormous puff sleeves and pair of bright pink heels. “What do you think?”

It’s not the worst that Desi’s seen, but is still horrendous so signs for Angella to please take it off which earns her a heavy sigh.

“Nothing pleases you, does it? We haven’t even started looking for your dress yet and your way more picky than I am.” Angella kicks the shoes off and falls down next to her friend, who has an amused expression etched on her features.

I still don’t understand why we have to go this thing. It seems stupid.

“It’s not stupid—Desi, this is princess prom! All of the princesses are going to be there, and we all get to wear pretty ballgowns and you just know that it’s going to be incredible in Plumeria this year.” She twists around. “Unzip me?”

Desi pulls the zip down and lets her go and find something else in the wardrobe. The truth is, as much as she loves Angella and knows Angella loves her, she doesn’t think that the other princesses will; it’s hardly very traditional to show up at one of these events with a servant as your plus one. Not that she’s really a servant anymore, though, considering that the king and queen let her attend classes with Angella instead of working in the kitchens but even so, she’s hardly anything anywhere close to royalty.

Her princess is far too nice to ever say anything about it, but Desi doesn’t want her to be embarrassed.

“Okay, how about this?” Angella re-emerges from the wardrobe in a purple ensemble, a pretty purple high waisted skirt that drops down to the base of her calves, and a cropped purple top that matches. It’s imbedded with pink and silver sparkles—whether the source of them is the skirt or Angella herself is unclear—and Desi has to blink a few times to take into account just how good her makes that look.

That’s the one.

“Really? You think?” The princess looks in the mirror and turns, her skirt twirling along with her. “I don’t normally wear this colour.”

It suits you. You look amazing. Desi assures her. Everyone in Plumeria will be jealous.

Angella snorts. “Maybe, but they’ll forget all about me when they see you. They’ll be thinking—who is this mysterious elf who’s gracing the princess with her presence?”

The elven girl shakes her head and tries not to blush.

“Right,” Angella says, spinning back around to face her friend. “Now it’s about time we start looking for thing for you. You can have anything of mine, but you know my parents are happy to have the seamstress come and make you whatever you like.”

Desi does know this, and perhaps because of the little time they have to actually spend with their daughter the king and queen of Bright Moon give her everything that she wants and so, through that, do the same with Desi too but she doesn’t like relying on the charity all the time, as much as she is grateful for it. She’s fourteen now, and if Angella is going to insist she come to the princess ball with her then she wants to be more than her charity case.

That’s alright. She signs to her friend, having a rough idea as to where she might be getting her outfit. I have an idea about what I’m going to wear already, anyway.

The princess’ expression brightens. “You do? What is it?”

Desi smiles at her. You’ll see.

She hopes what she has in mind will work.

Thana is pulling at some particularly stubborn weeds, flushed and sweating, when her daughter approaches her. She almost doesn’t notice her at first, as quiet and shadowlike that damned girl is, and yelps at the gentle tap on her shoulder. “Are you trying to kill me?!”

Her daughter looks apologetic and shakes her head, passing her a piece of paper.

I have a ball to go to soon, and I was hoping you might help me find a dress to wear for it.

Thrusting the paper back into her daughter’s hand, Thana wipes her forehead and chokes out a laugh. “Why would I help you? What, is being the royal pet not quite meeting your standards anymore?”

Desi scribbles something onto the paper and hands it back to her.

Because you’re my mother, and I love you.

“If you love me so much then you wouldn’t have left me on my own.” Thana tells her. “Do you know how hard I work, how hard I worked to give you a life? I gave you your life, you don’t get to come and ask me for anything else anymore. Go away.”

This is what Desi was expecting, even though she hoped her mother might have mellowed in time, but it still manages to hurt her just as much. Maybe this was a stupid idea, maybe she should just leave her mother alone like she’s asking but…

But she still wants to spend time with her. She wants her mother to help her to look pretty, like she used to when she was a dancer in the north. She wants her mother to care.

Please.

Thana makes a noise which is bordering on a screech, eyes yellow and burning with sheer annoyance. “Fine. Fine! If it’s so important to you I’ll help you with your stupid dress but not because I feel any sort of need to.” She stands, pointing an accusing finger at her daughter. “But because I know you’ll blow this ball without me to help you.”

The girl frowns, not previously aware there was a goal to these things beyond upholding etiquette rules and trying to enjoy yourself but is too happy that her mother’s agreed to help her to say anything about it.

“Come and see me after dinner.” Thana tells her. “And I’ll see what I can do.”

“Come in!” Thana barks, and Desi dutifully enters the room that used to be her home. Returning to it now, she realises just how small it is. Maybe that’s because she’s grown since she was last here, but even so the corner she used to sleep in looks very cramped. Well, she reasons, it’s the best they could afford and didn’t seem like a problem at the time so it shouldn’t be one now. “Come here.”

Desi stands directly before her mother, about an arm’s length away. She’s not quite as tall as her yet but it’s becoming a near thing. Thana pushes her hair out of her face, and looks her up and down like a critic would a piece of art. “Take your clothes off.”

Trying to dispel the blush that forms in embarrassment at that, and slowly pulls her dress over her head, trying to cover her body as much as possible. Thana grips her arms and pulls them away from her body as to inspect her properly, and then hums as if she’s realised something. “You could have been a dancer too, in the north, if it weren’t for the tongue, you know? You’re probably old enough.” She mutters. Desi isn’t sure whether to take that as a good thing or not.

The older woman reaches under her bed and pulls out an old trunk, lined with dust. “I kept some of my outfits from before, the ones I didn’t have the heart to sell.” She fishes around until she pulls out crimson piece of fabric. “This is what I wore when I convinced your father to cheat on his wife, it’s never failed me.” Thana smirks as at the memory, caressing the fabric tenderly. “Try it.”

Desi hesitantly takes the dress from her mother, making sure to block that comment about her father from her mind permanently. Once it’s on completely, she doesn’t think her mother has ever looked so proud of her.

The fabric, which is as soft as it is sheer, loops around her neck and plunges quite far down her chest—something her mother insists is the fashion up north, even if it does seem a little immodest to Desi—and then cinches around her waist, flowing down the floor. Thana pulls out some gold beads from the trunk and then starts to thread her fingers through Desi’s hair, threading them through to form a very loose hold at the back of her head. “I used to look incredible like this.” Thana sighs as she finishes. “Of course, back then these were real gold, but I can’t afford that anymore. But find a rich man at this princess party, I’m sure it’ll be flooding with them, and then you’ll have all the gold beads in the world—and, of course, you won’t forget your dear mother who helped you get there, will you?”

Desi nods though she’s not really listening to what her mother’s saying, to busy enjoying the rare feeling of maternal caring that she almost never receives from her mother as Thana brushes her fingers through her hair.

“And then, the finishing touch!” Thana announces, pulling a final piece of much smaller sheer fabric from the trunk and going to secure it behind Desi’s ears, so it ghosts over her nose and mouth. The girl almost feels disheartened, knowing that she needs to cover her face to be enough, but is willing to do so given how happy it seems to make her mother look. “Oh, darling, you look good—you could be me!”

“Princess Angella of Bright Moon and Miss Desdemona!”

Following her friends lead, Desi bows to the hosting Princess Petal’s throne by the huge tree that’s the source of the floral kingdom’s power. She lets Angella do the talking, letting her eyes wander the enormous crowd of people that have assembled for the party. She knew going into this there would be a lot of people, but this seems…well, she’s a little in shock.

“When you said you were finding your own dress, this certainly wasn’t what I imagined.” Angella tells her as they walk away, free to enjoy the party.

Desi frowns. Don’t you like it?

“I do! I think you look beautiful, but…” She pulls gently on the mask over Desi’s face. “Why are you wearing a mask again? You don’t need it.”

My mother gave it to me, Desi signs back. I like it.

The look Angella gives her back is disbelieving but she doesn’t say anything else about it, instead looking towards the buffet which is full of vegetarian dishes that neither of them has ever heard of. She takes her friends hand and leads her to the table, selecting a red shape that’s been stuck with a cocktail stick and carved into a—is that a swamp hippo? A Wolfbat? It’s unclear.

The princess giggles and Desi smiles with her, selecting her own red shape and regarding it carefully.

“It’s a horse, I checked.” A voice behind them says, and the pair spin around to see a foreign face dressed in purple. Desi doesn’t recognise the colour scheme but Angella clearly does.

“A sorcerer.” The princess raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting to see any sorcerers here.”

The boy, who looks to be a few years older than Angella and Desi themselves, just shrugs. “I came with the princess of Dryl, we’re old friends. But she ditched me at some point so now I’m fishing around for friends.” He smiles. “My name’s Arcan, nice to meet you both.”

“Princess Angella of Bright Moon, and this is my best friend Desdemona.”

“Desdemona.” He looks towards the elven girl, eyebrows raised. “I haven’t heard that name before. Are you originally from Bright Moon?”

Desi frowns, looking to Angella to explain. “Desi can’t talk, at least not like you and I can.” Angella supplies. “We use a sign language to communicate.”

“Really? That’s impressive.” He nods in acknowledgement. “It’s a shame I don’t know it. If I’m honest, you caught my eye as soon as you walked in the room, Desdemona, and I’ve been working up the courage to speak with you since.”

Angella’s hand covers her mouth, and she nudges Desi suggestively, grinning. Desi just turns bright red and redirects her eyeline, literally anywhere else.

She signs to Angella what do I do? Who simply looks up to her friends admirer with a widening grin and says: “So, Arcan, tell us all about Mystacor. Desi would love to know…”

Chapter Text

At sixteen, Angella takes Desi with her to the floating city of Mystacor. It’s a trip they’ve been putting off for far too long—or, really, that Desi’s been putting off for far too long and it’s no mystery why. Ever since they met at the princess prom a few years ago, her and Arcan have been exchanging a steady stream of letters which have certainly piqued her interest in the sorcerer’s city but left her feeling more awkward and nervous about seeing him in person as time goes on. She knows it’s stupid, because he even calls her magically through mirrors sometimes so she can teach him her sign language, but the idea of being properly with him again, in person, makes her stomach turn circles.

It’s not that she doesn’t like him—it’s the opposite, really, she likes him too much.

What Desi doesn’t anticipate, when they arrive, is how much she falls in love with the place.

She listens aptly as he and a more senior sorceress take them around the city, making Angella ask all her questions even though her winged friend loses interest very quickly (her intention in coming was to make use of the beach more than anything else, but Desi is too enamoured with all of the magic and history around them to leave for that just yet).

Perhaps her favourite place that they see is the hall of statues, lined with towering stone sorcerers that have lived and served Mystacor over the centuries. “Only the greatest of sorcerers get their statues built here.” Arcan whispers to her. “It’s my greatest dream. I only hope that one day I’ll be powerful enough.”

It takes a few hours before Angella finally pulls her and Arcan, who was too polite to express his own boredom so explicitly, away towards the beach where they lay together to relax. The elven girl sits up after about five minutes, unable to do so.

Do you think I could learn to be a sorceress too? She signs to Arcan.

His understanding of the language is still rudimentary, so he looks at Angella who has peeked her eye open at the movement.

“Anyone can, Desi. It’s not like the magic from the runestones that you’re born into, you learn it—but they only accept the most gifted here.” Angella tells her and looks up to Arcan. “She asked whether she could be a sorceress too.”

The prospect seems to excite him. “Have ever been able to do magic before?”

Desi frowns and bites her lip with a pointed canine. She does not cover her face anymore, not since the one exception at princess prom, which Angella does commend her for even if she herself doesn’t consider it that big of a deal. No. But I can learn, don’t you think?

Arcan nods enthusiastically. “Of course, you can! I can lend you some of the beginners’ books we have here, if you like.”

“I’m sure there are lots of things you can study when we get back to Bright Moon, too.” Angella adds. “But they are super selective here, so try not to get your hopes up all the way. You already have so many skills, you might be able to defeat us all if you add magic to it.” She princess grins at her.

Desi raises an eyebrow with a small smile. Really? Like what?

“Oh, you know.” Angella sits up. “You’re an amazing cook—unlike me—” They both giggle recounting the last unfortunate time the angel was allowed into the kitchen. “And your garden is so beautiful it might as well be Plumerian. Plus, you’re the best friend I could ever ask for, and that’s definitely a skill in itself.”

Thank you. Desi smiles, taking her friend’s hand and squeezing it. But I think I need to do this. Imagine all the good I could do with magic, like you have?

“It’d be amazing if you came to study at Mystacor!” Arcan exclaims. “Wow, there’s so much I could show you, and teach you.”

“It would be pretty cool.” Angella agrees, pulling Desi back down and cuddling up to her. “We’ll help you, if you like. I’m sure with Arcan and I’s help, you’ll be magicking circles around everyone on Mystacor in no time.”

Desi doesn’t reply, just snuggles closer to her friend and enjoys the calming movement of the waves, holding out her other hand almost hesitantly for Arcan to hold.

Even after months and months of rigorous training with Arcan and Angella to help her, Desdemona does not pass her entrance test for Mystacor with flying colours.

In fact, she barely passes at all, but does manage to scrape it, and that’s all that matters—her dream of learning sorcery on Mystacor is coming true, and she couldn’t be happier. Arcan, it seems, is even happier than she is and insists she moves into the dorm next to his, which she is glad about. It’s nice to know she has a friend here from the start, that she has someone she can rely on, that can understand her.

Despite all the excitement and novelty, she is very sad to move away from Angella, and finds it very difficult to adapt to a life where she does not wake up with the angelic princess by her side every day. They’ve shared everything for almost as long as she can remember, and it’s feels a little wrong to be doing something on her own for once even though her friend still is only just a letter away.

Desi will her miss her mother too, even if the feeling is not always mutual. The rift between them has been somewhat breached after princess prom but things are still difficult, and Desi has come to realise that, for her own sake, Thana might not always be the best person to be around. Her mother also vehemently protested against her trying out for Mystacor, as expected, but the newly enrolled sorceress figures that her mother will forget about it pretty quickly now that she’s completely out of the firing zone.

All in all, Desdemona enters Mystacor with hope and light in her eyes, and a hunger for knowledge.

It does not last.

She has worked tirelessly for months non-stop to learn what she needs to in order to scrape into Mystacor but hadn’t realised that it might not be enough compete with the other students learning beside her who all take to the craft naturally. Try as she might, they always seem to be quicker than here and stronger than her and better that her and no amount of studying seems to help that anymore.

“You just need to give it time, Desi.” Arcan tells her when she complains to him. “Everyone learns at their own pace. So what if you’re a little behind? In the grand scheme of things, it won’t matter.”

It doesn’t help that some of these spells have a verbal element to them.

She’s wanted to be able to speak before, of course she has, but she’s never felt quite so disadvantaged than she does around these natural talents who do not even attempt to learn her language, to her teacher, Norwyn, who looks at her with a mixture of pity and disdain. She wants to scream after a few months, and never thought she could miss Angella this much.

Her class stands outside in the courtyard casting light spells. They’ve been doing this for weeks, and she’s read all she can find on them but hers never seem to project as brightly or as intensely as the others—their tigers and rams run through the air together as commanded while the little golden bird she’s conjured remains small and static.

A drop of sweat forms above her brow as she strains to hold the spell, and she feels her entire body tense as Norwyn walks behind her, observing.

“Make it bigger.” He commands and she’s trying but it’s not working, and her arms are starting the shake under the pressure. The bird flickers and falls and the weight of it all almost makes her collapse on the spot, but she doesn’t, managing to hold her balance if nothing else. The eyes of all the other students find her and stare, some in mocking and some in pity, but it is Norwyn who spins her around with a glare. “We took you into Mystacor out of pity but if you can’t even complete basic tasks then you shall not have a place here anymore. Start putting a little effort in, Desdemona, or you shall no longer be welcome.”

She feels tears build up in her eyes, not because she’s sad but because she is furious. It’s a hot, raging anger that runs through her like nothing else ever has and bubbles in her blood—she wants to hurt this man, she wants to hurt him because how dare he talk to her like this? Her hands start to shake with heat up as a tear drops down her cheek and she lifts them up. Is this power, this thing that’s been so elusive but now feels so wrong and right in her hands, that she can channel in any way and cause any thing? Desi is so angry that she can’t think clearly enough to know for sure, but when she turns around and produces another light spell her bird is larger and stronger than all the others, is soars through the air and crushes all the others with sheer force, spinning golden light all around them.

The spell doesn’t hold for long and drains all the energy out of her. She collapses at the feet of her teacher, who will admonish her the next day for a lack of control but that falls on deaf ears because they are all wrong about her, and she’s going to prove it.

She’s eating dinner by herself in her dorm, re-reading the fundamentals of spell drawing, and attempting to design an invisibility spell so she can get around without receiving looks when there’s a knock at her door.

“Can I come in, Desi?” She stands and goes to open the door, letting him through. It’s not uncommon for him to forgo the communal meal for the sorcerers like she always does to spend some time with her, which admittedly does make her quite happy. Everyone else on Mystacor makes her feel like an outcast, like a freak, apart from Arcan and for that she owes him everything that may ever come from this education.

He’s clutching some papers tightly in his hand and beaming at her. She frowns. Are you okay?

Arcan grins at her. “You could say that.” He sets the papers down in her desk and sits down next to her. “Look, I know you’ve been having some trouble with your class, and obviously you’re at a major disadvantage with the verbal spells, so I’ve been trying to work on something to help you and…” He grins. “I think I’ve cracked it.”

Intrigued, Desi takes the papers from her desk and glances over them. She frowns. An amplification spell?

“Kind of.” He says. “I know you’re not supposed to create your own spells until you’re older,” Desi isn’t actually aware of this, so quickly tucks the invisibility spell under her pillow. “But I figured that, in this situation, it would be okay. That rule’s stupid anyway, most people aren’t even clever enough to adapt a spell let alone write one. But this—” He lays out the papers and directs her to a polished drawing of a spell in purple ink. “Is a hybrid of the healing and amplification spells, and I think, if we do it when all the moons are in alignment, it’ll give you a voice.”

She stares at him. That’s not funny.

“I’m not joking!” He insists. “Imagine how stupid Norwyn will feel when you go back to class having mastered all the verbal spells, because they’re easy and you will. You’d be able to prove everyone here wrong, and more importantly, you’d finally have a voice!”

This kind of spell is against the rules. I could get expelled. She looks at him. But thank you, it was very kind of you.

“It wouldn’t be cheating to boost your abilities, it’s just…levelling the playing field.” He says, taking her hand. “I don’t want to force you, but I think this would be really great for you, Desi. You could be a great sorceress as it is, but imagine how much better you could be if you actually had a voice to command the forces yourself?”

Desi almost takes offence at that comment but knows he only means well, and it is true that fixing her voice would probably help her enormously. But she can’t…even if it is just levelling out the field, it is still against the rules, isn’t it? She’s worked too hard to get here to waste it all on some experimental spell that may or may not work.

But then again, Arcan is probably right. How far is she really going to go like this? Her little boost of power while they were learning light spells was a one off, and she hasn’t been able to recreate it since. Maybe the addition of verbal spells is exactly what she needs.

No. She says, finally, after a long moment of contemplation. I can’t. I’m sorry.

He looks disappointed, but not put out. “I understand. But the offer still stands should you ever change your mind.”

It takes three weeks for Desi to change her mind.

Or, more precisely, one event that enrages her so deeply that she decides that Arcan is the only one who can help her in Mystacor.

It’s when she’s in the mess hall with Arcan, for once coaxed out of her own dorm room with the promise of getting another piece of cake (she’s never had a particularly strong sense of taste, but she likes the texture a lot). She’s been self-conscious about eating in front people for as long as she can remember—her mother always insisted the turn the other way at every meal, so is understandably nervous about going somewhere so communal.

“No one will be paying any attention to you, I promise.” Arcan grins, as he loops his arm around her and pulls her inside. “You need to come out of your shell sometime, Desi. And there’s no better time than the present.”

They find a quiet spot in the corner to eat, Desi recounts her day to him while he explains the ins and outs of a new accelerated growth spell he’s working on. She thinks it’s amazing that he can create new spells all by himself so quickly—she can’t even begin to imagine where he gets his ideas from, her own attempts are pitiful in comparison. She’s finishing his piece of cake when a group of her classmates approach them.

She frowns—they never even look at her outside of class normally—and offers small wave (like most people, none of them ever bothered to learn her language).

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” The leader says, stepping close enough to her that her body is completely encased in his shadow. “You know you’re not welcome, freak.”

“Hey!” Arcan stands and glares at them, and Desi doesn’t think she’s ever been more confused. It’s never been made clear that she’s not welcome in the mess hall, and while she certainly isn’t friends with any of the other students in her year they’ve never been outright hostile towards her before. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Hey, let her speak for herself.” The smirk his lips curl into doesn’t look right on her classmate’s face. “Oh wait, she can’t.”

“That’s it—” Arcan jumps on the other student and Desi feels powerless to stop them. She wants to scream at them to stop but she can’t, wants to try and break it up but her other classmates push her back from trying—she watches helplessly as her classmate punches Arcan hard in the stomach and he falls back against the table with a gasp.

Her classmate spits at his face. “Don’t fight battles you won’t win, loser.”

The group walk away, and Desi rushes to her friend, putting her hand to his face which causes him to groan. She tries to signal asking whether he can walk but his eyes are closed—if she could just speak then she’d actually get an answer—if she could just speak then Arcan wouldn’t feel the need to fight her battles for her, then no one would call her a freak, she’d be just like everyone else. She’s never felt as frail and disabled as she does in this moment.

She helps Arcan back up to his dorm and gets him some ice for the nasty looking bruises that start to form, sitting at his bedside and propping him up with all the pillows she could find. “Thanks.” He mutters.

You didn’t need to do that.

“If you can’t fight back, then I’ll always do it for you, Desi.” He tells her.

She looks down, canine piercing her lip, and then looks back up to him. Then help me fight back.

“The spell?”

Desi nods. I need a voice.

After another few months, Desi returns to Bright Moon with a new voice and new name.

“Welcome home, all-powerful Light Spinner!” Angella exclaims as she runs out of the castle, practically knocking Light Spinner over with the force of her hug. “I missed you so much! Now, you must tell me everything about Mystacor, your letters aren’t ever nearly long enough, I’m so excited to see you!”

Light Spinner signs I’ll tell you all about it, but I need to show you something first. Her voice is still a novelty, and although she’s had it for a few weeks now, she deemed it too important to tell Angella about through a letter.

“Is it a surprise?” Angella perks up, linking her arms with her friend’s and walking into the castle together, wings elevating excitedly. “Because I got you something but it’s not that great, and you’ll make me feel really bad if you got me something great!”

You’ll just have to wait and see.

They head up to the room they shared as children and set down Light Spinner’s things, Angella waiting almost impatiently for what Light Spinner has promised. Once there, Light Spinner takes Angella’s hands in her own and holds then tightly, taking a deep breath and swallowing. It’s been so long—she’s been thinking about this moment ever since Arcan’s spell worked, the first time she ever gets to speak to her best friend—but now she’s here she’s completely stuck on what to say.

“Des—I mean, Light Spinner?” Angella asks, her eyes masked with a thin film of worry.

“Yes?” She replies, looking up with a small smile as water builds up in her eyes, and Angella’s jaw drops.

“Did—Did you just--?” The angel’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and Light Spinner nods, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You can—you can talk?”

Light Spinner smiles. “I can talk.”

“Oh my gosh!” Angella pulls her into a hug and holds her tightly, wings fluttering in excitement behind her. Light Spinner squeezes her back, she doesn’t think she’s ever been so happy in her life. The angel then lets her hand slip to her friend’s cheek, meeting her bright green eyes. “This amazing, Desi, it really is but…”

“But?” That isn’t what she’s expecting.

“I want to make sure you did this because you want to speak, not because you think I or anyone else needs you to. You’re perfect just the way you are…and you never need to change, not if you don’t really want to.”

She then notices the name slip and frowns. “You…you think it was a mistake?”

“No! No, I’m sorry, I just—” Angella shakes her head. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. And it’s incredible that you can speak, I never even imagined it could be possible.”

Light Spinner puts her hand over Angella’s and just stares back at her for a long moment. In all her life, no one has ever treated her as kindly as her best friend—no one has ever listened to her and understood her, or even tried to. And now she has Arcan too, and a voice of her own, and she’s learning to be a sorceress at Mystacor. Sure, it’s not perfect, but it’s certainly a hell of an improvement to how her life started.

“I want to spend every second of the next week with you,” She tells Angella with a smile. “But first…my mother.”

“She’s still working in the gardens.”

“She never replies to my letters.”

The princess smiles and her eyes start to water, she curses and wipes them. “Sorry—sorry! I’m just, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to hearing your voice.”

Light Spinner chuckles. “I hope you will, I don’t intend to ever let you stop hearing it, ever.”

“I shall certainly hold you to that.” Angella tells her. “And…I wouldn’t worry too much about the letters, if you can. Thana’s always been a bit…”

“Flaky. Useless. Manipulative, rude?” Light Spinner supplies, to which Angella just shrugs innocently. “I know. I shouldn’t except much from her, but…she’s still my mother. I’ll go and see if she’s downstairs, and then I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Take your time.” Angella smiles.

Thana is not in her room when Light Spinner goes down to see her, but after a warm greeting from the rest of the staff assuring her that she’ll be back soon, and happily astounded at her new voice she can’t quite find it within herself to be overly disappointed.

The room itself is exactly as it always has been, and while she’s only been away for the better part of the year, somehow the sorceress was expecting it to seem different. Before, after she’d first moved upstairs with Angella, it had looked small and cold to her compared with the new luxuries she was being exposed to, but now it strikes her as oddly comforting—a familiar space that was her home for years, and still feels like it on some level.

Her head snaps up from her perch on her mother’s bed when the door swings open, and Thana freezes staring at her wide eyed. The room itself may not have changed, but it seems in the time she’s been gone it’s Thana herself has aged rapidly.

The woman’s once rich, black hair now has some white strands scattered in, and her hand has a new wrinkled scar down her index finger to her wrist. Somehow her eyes seem older, like age has crept up with her suddenly after years of backing away in fear, and she just looks…wrong.

Their race of elf have an average lifespan of about two and half hundred years, much longer than the average lifeform in Etheria excluding the immortal species like the angels, and while Light Spinner doesn’t actually know how old her mother is given that such a question would tip her already unstable rage over the edge she has never thought her as…old. Her face had been one of someone maybe in their mid-thirties until now, and she had supposed it would stay that way for many decades to come yet, but it seems now that may not be the case.

She realises that she’s staring so quickly redirects her eyeline, her mother looks unimpressed.

“The prodigal daughter returns.” Thana sighs and cracks her knuckles, then closing the door behind her. “Thought you were gone for good.”

“Never for good.” She says, looking directly at her mother who startles.

“How did you—” The gardener’s eyes bulge. “Is it all that magic crap? Did it…fix you?”

Light Spinner wants to tell her mother than she was never broken in the first place, like Angella probably would for her were she here, but the truth is she isn’t so confident about that fact herself anymore after everything that’s happened on Mystacor, so instead simply says: “Yes, it did.”

Thana’s face morphs from shock into something more resembling a real smile, it’s a little unnerving in its rarity coming from Light Spinner’s mother. “Well, look at you.” Thana smiles. “Pretty, unbroken and in some magic school—everything’s worked out, hasn’t it?”

The young sorceress bites her lip. “I…not quite. I just, I need to know—it’s because of my voice that you were cruel to me, for all those years? It’s because I was deformed, isn’t it?”

“I was never cruel to you, I was realistic.” Thana says, approaching her daughter and gently brushing her hand through her hair. “But if that’s how you perceived it…then it’s because you remind me of myself.”

Light Spinner leans into the touch happily. “R-really?”

“You had to work for everything you have, and so did I. It was a lot harder for me, of course—you’ve had so many handouts from the princess that I doubt it’s been that difficult for you, really, but now you’re reaching your peak, like I did mine. You found yourself a man at that ball to take care of you like I did, you’re rising up like I did.” Thana sighs, looking up wistfully. “I wanted you to be better than me, not make the mistakes of looking for greatness like I did. It all seems great when everything is working itself out but the second you make one big mistake, one major slipup, all that you’ve worked for will turn to dust in your hands.”

She retracts her hand from her daughter and tilts her head slightly, as if to regard her better. “Of course, it doesn’t help that you were my big mistake.”

It’s said in an almost pensive tone rather than accusatory, but Light Spinner can’t help taking it as such and feels her heart sink. Things might have turned out terribly for her mother, but she’s certain it will not be the same for her. Sure, she owes a lot to Arcan and Angella for helping her get to where she is but that doesn’t mean they’ve done everything for her—she works hard and she takes risks but only the educated kind, she will be a successful and powerful, not end up some washed up, bitter lowlife without friends or goals or purpose.

She will be better than her mother, no matter what the older woman may think is coming for her.

“Oh, come now Desi, you don’t need to look so put out.” Thana rolls her eyes and takes a step back. “The worst comes for the best of us.”

Light Spinner takes a deep breath. “My name isn’t Desi anymore. It’s Light Spinner, I’m not the girl you raised, and I won’t end up like you.”

Thana laughs, the choked and cynical kind. “Oh, darling—you’ll always be mine, no matter what name you choose to parade yourself in, where you choose to live. You’re my daughter, whether you like it or not, and that’s something you’ll never be able to run away from.”

The sorceress doesn’t know why she even bothers to come down and visit her mother anymore, and quickly evacuates the servant’s quarters without one look back in her direction, knowing that spending time with Angella should help her forget all about this awful encounter.

Light Spinner never sees her mother again—her visits to Bright Moon are spend in avoidance of her—and Thana dies a few years later in her sleep, young for her race and alone. There is a funeral, and her daughter does not deem it important enough to visit for. She tries very hard not to think about her again, to convince herself that any influence and impact that Thana had on her life has been completely dissolved.

While her physical ability in magic does improve with her voice, it does not seem to change the view of her that that other’s hold—predominantly, and most significantly, that of her teacher Norwyn who she is truly beginning to resent.

The other students still for the most part leave her alone, that freak incident in the mess hall aside, but he is stricter and harsher on her than ever. He spent days interrogating her about how she got her voice back, but Light Spinner was never going to give up Arcan as her accomplice like that, so still insists that it’s an unforeseen side effect of an amplified light spell gone wrong. She doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal, really—they teach shape-shifting spells a few years down the line and this really is not so different.

“You are playing with unnatural forces, Light Spinner.” Norwyn tells her, a week after she’s returned from Mystacor from Bright Moon, having called her into his office for failure to attend the solstice ceremony. It wasn’t just her—she and Arcan had taken the opportunity of everyone’s distraction to steal crystals from the Lunarium which help Arcan in his spell development—but it seems since she’s been labelled the charity case and so most to live up to, the most to answer to.

Or, as seems to be the more apparent reason, Norwyn just really doesn’t like her.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” She frowns. “I missed one solstice.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” He points at her accusingly. “You run around with that poor boy in sixth year, a prodigy who will rise to do great things for Etheria and sully him with your malpractices and witchcraft.” At that she glares at her teacher—to call a sorcerer a witch is considered a great insult. “I don’t know what you were taught in the North, but—”

“I’m not from the North!” She exclaims. “I was born near Salineas and raised in Bright Moon, I’ve never done anything against you! What have I done that offends you so much?”

Norwyn frowns and shakes his head. “It’s these sorts of outbursts that lead me to believe we may have made an error taking you into Mystacor. I thought I was doing you a great kindness, but your character is not compatible with the Guild’s ideals. You may want to consider other options, Light Spinner, because I struggle to see much future for you here.”

She wants to scream at him that he’s being unfair, because he is and he never like this to anyone else—Arcan was literally with her when the skipped the ceremony and he knows this and blames her anyway! Arcan’s the elder one, if anything he should be held accountable but, it seems, once again her lack of natural power is being held against her.

She wants to shout in her defence but that’s what he wants her to do, isn’t it? Prove her an out of control witch who doesn’t belong amongst the calm, light serving sorcerers of Mystacor.

Light Spinner will not turn out like her mother, she will not be told what she can and can’t be.

Chapter Text

“That bastard!” Arcan exclaims after she recounts the events of her meeting with Norwyn to him. They’re in his dorm, her sitting on his bed as he stalks around, hands threaded together while he paces in thought. “What has he ever even taught you, anyway? All the stuff from class you taught yourself, all he does is walk around and make cheap jabs when something goes wrong.”

Light Spinner sighs and lays down. “I know. You’re the only person in Mystacor who’s ever given me anything useful.”

He exhales and stops pacing. “The guild’s prejudicial rules are so out of date. Magic isn’t something that should be protected and kept for people idiots like Norwyn think are worthy—everyone should be allowed to use it.”

“I know,” Light Spinner agrees. “But, for now, I’ve just got to focus on keeping myself here, more than fixing all the world’s problems.”

The older sorcerer sits on the bed next to her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I’ve been working on a new spell, with the crystals from the Lunarium. I’d like to try it out with you, I think it’ll help.”

She frowns. “What does it do?”

He smiles at her gently, moving his hand to gently trace circles on her wrist. “It’ll…draw the energy from the environment into you, natural energies, and enhance your powers. It’s not—I promise it’s not anything bad.”

Light Spinner shakes her head quickly. “That sounds like artificial power. That’s breaking like…every rule the guild has.”

“It’s not, not if it already exists all around us!” Arcan quickly says. “Look, I fixed your voice, I know what I’m doing. You trust me, don’t you? I’m just trying to help you, I hate to say it, but you might not make it here without my help now. I’m giving you an opportunity to take control, to show Norwyn and all those other old crones that you’re worthy.”

He’s right. Light Spinner bites her lips and looks to the floor. His spell did work before, and she does trust Arcan—he would never hurt her, and he is, it seems, the only person on Mystacor who’s ever cared about her. She wonders what Angella would say, were she here, and knows that her friend would probably tell her not to go through with anything—but Angella was born into power, she’s never had to struggle a day in her life, so wouldn’t Light Spinner be a fool to turn it down when offered?

Still, the prospect does make her nervous. This is all still very…experimental, and as much as she trusts Arcan, everyone can make mistakes.

“I don’t know, Arcan…” She trails off, looking away from him.

He sighs, and then pulls her closer to him, his hand falling to her cheek like Angella’s used to. “I love you, Light Spinner.” He tells her. “Let me help you?”

She wants to protest, even feebly, but as his lips gently meet hers all she can think is that he loves her and no one has ever loved her like this before. He loves her! He, the most talented and brave and smart student in Mystacor loves her! She kisses him back, greedily holding onto the contact until he pulls away abruptly and she’s left, shivering and cold.

If he needs her to do this spell, then she must, mustn’t she? She needs to give him something.

“I’ll do it.” She whispers, suddenly feeling very young and naïve but old and mature at the same time. “I’ll do it…just, hold me?”

Arcan smiles. “Anything for you.”

Dear Angella,

How are you? I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve written to you, even though it’s only been a few weeks since I was at Bright Moon! I guess that’s because so much has happened since I came back to Mystacor, I feel like I’m moving at a hundred miles a second.

I think Arcan is my boyfriend now—he’s never said so in those words, but he treats me like other people treat their girlfriends and I think I like that a lot. He’ll hold my hands in the corridors now, and kiss my cheek after lessons, and when we’re alone he’ll kiss me properly, and, well, you know! Nothing’s ever made me happier, nothing ever! He says that we have a connection and I think he must be right—ever since he fixed my voice, I’ve known he was special, and he really is! He’s developing all these new spells all by himself and it feels incredible to be able to help him, even just a little.

I guess nothing can ever be perfect, sincde Norwyn had been coming down kind of hard on me recently, but Arcan promised he has a way to fix things so I’m sure everything will work itself out. Did everything work out in the Kingdom of Snows? I know how much you hate the cold, but it’s supposed to be high summer there now so hopefully it wasn’t too bad.

I hope I’ll see you soon, maybe next time I can bring Arcan back to Bright Moon? I’m sure he’d love it there.

Love you and miss you very much,

Light Spinner.

The doubts that Light Spinner initially had about Arcan’s new spell return to her about halfway through the ritual.

They spend a few weeks discreetly stealing as many crystals from the Lunarium as they can—when crushed and turned to dust their magical properties are potent enough to achieve most things, she learns from him, even if the practice is technically against the rules—until one night Arcan wakes her at midnight with a bottle full of the dust in his pocket and his notes under his arm.

“Are we…now?” She asks sleepily, wiping her eyes.

He nods. “Yep. Come on, it won’t work in the morning—we need to be quick.”

Light Spinner lets herself be tugged out of her room and into the corridor, and while she knows that this ritual is something to do with energy and its relation to power it occurs to her that Arcan has never told her anymore about it than that. They’re going outside and she doesn’t know why, only that he’s taking her there and she trusts him. And she does trust him, deeply, so won’t question him yet.

They arrive in the healing springs, which surprises her, and he puts his things down, taking her hands and looking at her in the eyes. “I love you so much for doing this.” He tells her, kissing her hands gently. “With my help, everything will work. You’ll see.”

She smiles. “I know.”

“Can you get in one of the tubs, for me?” He asks and she obliges, climbing into one of the smaller baths and standing in the middle as directed, the water splashing against her mid-thigh and making her red nightdress stick to her skin.

“Like this?”

“That’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He tells her, and Light Spinner flushes. Arcan then sits down on the floor by the pool and starts to draw out a series of complicated symbols that look unfamiliar to her, for all her reading she never come across anything like what he’s producing on the floor, and she might only just be finishing her first year but she’s done a lot of extensive reading.

Well, she reassures herself. If he’s been reworking and producing his own spells, then of course you won’t have seen them before. There’s nothing to be worried about!

He is completely silent as he works on the rune, presumably because it’s intricate, but Light Spinner wishes he would say something, anything just to try and settle her nerves. It’s not because she’s worried but just standing here with the near boiling water lapping at her body while he draws foreign spells on the ground makes her shiver despite the heat. Again, she’s not scared—why would she ever fear Arcan, who loves and cares for her so much—but…

“I’m done.” The sound of his voice startles her and she jumps, eyes wide and then laughs a little hysterically at her reaction. He laughs along with her, grinning. “Are you ready?”

She doesn’t trust herself to say yes so just nods, forcing herself to stand up straight with her arms, tense and definitely not shaking by her side. If he notices her apprehension, he doesn’t say anything, instead closing his eyes and lifting his arms, letting the rune rise with him.

The symbol approaches her slowly and Light Spinner finds that she doesn’t really want to watch so closes her eyes too, flinching with the hot pinch of the crystal dust goes through her and then descends into the water. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting, but when nothing happens, she cracks one eye open and frowns.

Well, that was easy.

Her relief seems a little premature, however, when she notices that Arcan’s hands are still elevated and he’s chanting something under his breath. Slowly, the water beneath her starts to bubble and heat up, she gasps, the sensation unnerving and painful but her feet are transfixed, she can’t move.

“Arcan, I—”

The water them starts to rise around her, pulsing with a gold glow that she’s never seen before and Light Spinner tries to pull her legs from their invisible holds. Something that colour should be beautiful and shining but it, somehow, seems to circle her like a predator its prey, like it could attack her at any minute. Big floating drops the size of her head rise and rise until there’s barely any water left in the pool.

“Stop, Arcan, I’m scared!” Light Spinner cries, shrinking down to her knees and looking at him pleadingly. “Please!”

Her legs suddenly come free—he must have heard her—and she wastes no time running out of the pool and away, stopping by Arcan who seems still entrapped in the ritual. “We need to go, it didn’t work, come on!” She cries, shaking his arm. “Arcan!”

Light Spinner turns around to see the large gold droplets combining to form one great form, wriggling around terribly like it’s trying to contain something. She tugs on the seemingly oblivious Arcan’s arm. “Come on, snap out of it, please!”

The gold water suddenly rushes at her and Light Spinner screams, making it not even half a metre away before it goes literally through her—entering each pore in her exposed skin in a manner that feels excruciating and then dripping out as water, the gold energy remaining within her body as a vessel, her skin glowing with the raw magic that’s being implanted inside her. She wants to scream but her throat is choked and blocked like it had been for all of her childhood, all of her life, and oh it hurts and she wants Angella and why would he do this—

Light Spinner passes out on the floor, and is found the next morning, soaked, by a sorceress looking to take her morning bath.

When she wakes up, it’s a few days later, with a flicker of her eyelid and a residual buzzing that seems to echo off everything.

Her hand is being held by someone familiar and the first thing she finds the energy to do is yank it away.

“Oh, you’re awake. I was so worried!” She hears Arcan say, blinking heavily as she realises she’s in the infirmary. Part of her wonders if the ritual was a dream, if maybe she just hit her head and made it all up, but dreams tend to fade quickly and that image of it—the agony of it—couldn’t be fresher in her mind.

She coughs, batting Arcan off with a glare as he tries to help her into a sitting position. “Why…” She wipes a hand over her face, valiantly refusing to look at him. “Why would you do that to me?”

He frowns. “Do what? The spell?”

Light Spinner brings her knees up to her chest and glares at him. “What else? I trusted you!”

“But, Light Spinner…” He has the audacity to look confused. “It worked. The spell went exactly how it was supposed to.”

Her eyes widen in shock. “You meant to hurt me?”

He looks mildly apologetic. “I wasn’t sure how painful the spell would be, and I’m sorry if it hurt, but sometimes that the price you have to pay for true power, Light Spinner.” Arcan tells her. “Do you think you’re up to coming outside? I want to show you something.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Tears prick at her eyes, but she refuses to let them out. Never before has she felt so used and violated, but rationally she knows that there’s nothing she can do about it—or, at least, nothing that will ever have any effect on him. All she wants is for him to leave her alone.

Arcan seems to understand on some level quite how badly she feels in that moment and softens his tone. “If you never want to see me again after this, then I promise I’ll leave you alone. But…please, just come outside with me, for a moment?”

The student sorceress thinks about it, and finally, even though her body and mind are protesting, allows him to help her to her feet and out of the infirmary. Part of her, and a part that she’s desperately trying to push down, is desperate to believe that he really didn’t mean to hurt her, that his intentions were good and he truly does mean well—that her trust in him didn’t make her weak and naïve even if that’s what his actions have led her to believe.

He takes her out to a quiet place in the courtyard and lets her sit down on the bench, taking a seat beside her with a hand gently on her shoulder that she wants to shake off but quite find the heart to.

“Do you see that flower?” He says, softly, pointing to a daisy by their feet. Just the sight of it makes her think of her mother, of gardening in Bright Moon, the rare moments of joy she had felt with the woman who raised her. Gently, she smiles. “Do you feel how it’s alive?”

Light Spinner frowns. “Of course, it’s alive. What are you trying to say?”

“You know it’s alive.” Arcan says. “But can you feel it, the energy within every living thing?”

She sighs. “This is stupid, I want to go ba—”

“Just try it.” He puts a hand gently on her thigh, looking at her with blue, pleading eyes. Light Spinner rolls her eyes and then closes them, pushing his hand off her this time and trying to focus on the daisy which she can envisage sitting by her ankle.

Her hands start to heat up with a sudden energy and she winks one eye open, gasping at the sight of the same gold energy that had been in the water yesterday glowing in her hand. She lifts it up and creates a flower of gold light just by thinking about it. More and more burst from her hand, flying all around her and Arcan. She laughs breathlessly, looking to Arcan with a wide smile and retracting her hand.

“I told you,” He says, smiling at her. “You don’t even need spells of incantations anymore, it’s just pure magic. I’m sorry about the ritual but—am I forgiven?”

Forgiven is a little strong, given that he did not deem it important enough to warn her and the recent feeling of the magic forcing itself through her skin is raw and stinging still, but…this power, this easy connection with raw and untamed magic is everything she’s ever dreamed of during her time here. “No,” She says, slowly, and he frowns. “But I’ll think about it.”

Arcan grins, taking her arm and leading her away from the bench and making sure she doesn’t notice the now shrivelled, blackened daisy that sits beneath it.

Dear Light Spinner,

That’s incredible—I’m so happy for you and Arcan, but you know with time you can be just as great as him too, right?

I’m sorry to hear about Norwyn, he sounds like a right bother, and I hope that things work themselves out! What do you mean ‘fix things’? Be careful—don’t do anything I wouldn’t!

The Kingdom of Snows went well, and all the intercity trade routes that I planned are working out! I was worried when I started the project that not everything was going to go according to plan but it seems everyone’s much more open to it than I was expecting, and it’ll certainly bring all the kingdoms closer together. Being out in the world and really doing something is good for me, I think. Hopefully you can spare the time to come with me on one of my trips soon!

Love you lots,

Angella.

It is easier than Light Spinner expected to conceal her new powers from the likes of Norwyn—he certainly wouldn’t approve of the manner in which she received them—but they do help her to improve massively in her drawn spells and incantations too, even if they seem a little futile to her now. There seems little point in learning the lesser powers which takes years to master, and that she was always looked down upon for, when there is so much more she can do now.

Most nights Arcan and her sneak out at to test the extent of her abilities, which he describes as a form of ergo kinesis—taking one form of energy and transferring it into magic. Light Spinner doesn’t let the logistics bother overly, to enthralled with the bursts of golden magic that swirl around and lift her up—that can fix or break everything around her, that can spin for better light shows that she ever could before, and do every spell she’s supposed to be taught for the entirety of her education at Mystacor with ease—no learning long and intricate incantations, no intricate rune drawing, nothing except magic and power.

“There’s only one downside that I couldn’t rule out.” Arcan tells her one night, about a week after the ritual. “The magic is so strong that your body might…burn out from it, but I have a solution!” He says quickly when a look of horror dawns upon her face. “You’ll need to go back to the healing pools every other week, to…recharge, as it were.”

Light Spinner glares at him. “Does that mean I could die?”

“Well…technically speaking, we can all die at any time…” He says, laughing awkwardly. “But hey, try not to think about it, let’s just go down to the pools and relax, okay?”

“Okay? Not okay Arcan! How do you reverse it, I don’t want to die because I’ve been away from the water for too long! This means I can’t go back to Bright Moon to see Angella for more than a few days at a time, it means I’m trapped! Why would you not tell me that?”

“Because you needed that power, Light Spinner!” He exclaims. “You’re position on Mystacor was threatened and it’s my job to help you, I’m your boyfriend, I love you! I did it all for you!”

She scowls. “I don’t believe you! If you really did this for me, then you would have told me about the consequences. You would have let me have a choice.”

“I never forced you to do anything.” He says, calming himself down. “You wanted to do the ritual, to help me with my research—which is completely successful! —and help you with Norwyn, you wanted this!”

Her throat starts to choke up and Light Spinner turns around, can no longer bear to look at him. “I wouldn’t have if I knew the price.”

“Don’t be stupid, I just—”

She shrieks and throws her hand out at him, a blast of golden light missing him by a hair. A hot fury runs through her and she conjures another blast, the power hot and untamed in her palms. “FIX ME!”

“Stop!” Arcan cries, his conjured incantations proving weak against her attacks. Light Spinner spins and kicks her leg up in the air, a blast of energy grazing his arm which causes him to cry out. She grits her teeth as her watery eyes start to blur her vision but keeps going, firing at him until she can’t feel her knees and her head’s feeling fuzzy—

She passes out, the grass beneath her blackened and dead, and Arcan rushes to pick her up and take her to the healing pools, careful to be gone before anyone has time to come and find the debris Light Spinner left behind. Norwyn will crucify her if he finds out the extent to what they’ve done, and that’s the last thing Arcan needs right now.

Once he gets her to the water, scouting out the area for someone who might see them first, her body visibly relaxes and cools, a gentle golden glow enveloping her as the magic settles. The truth is, he had not been a hundred percent certain that the water would indeed heal her—his closest calculations were at best semi-conclusive—but it’s certainly reassuring, since now he’s established that a vessel can take the force of magic Light Spinner’s holding and survive moderately comfortably.

He now knows enough for it to be safe to conduct the ritual on himself.

After a few minutes her eyelids start to flicker, and he climbs in beside her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?” He asks, tone gentle and caring.

Light Spinner lets out a heavy exhale and tries to sit up, just managing with the water to support her. At the realisation of who is sitting beside her she scrambles away, firing a glare in his direction

“Hey, hey, calm down!” He says, hands up in surrender. “Look…I know what I did was shitty of me, and I’m sorry, I really am. But I haven’t been entirely open as to why I did it, and I think I owe you thank now. It’s why I’ve been working on these spells in the first place.”

Light Spinner blinks. “Talk.”

“I…I mentioned how I was friends with the princess of Dryl at prom, where we first met.” He tells her, and nods, remembering. “That’s kind of true, I guess—but friends might be a strong word. My father was a sorcerer like me, and he helped her with her inventions, she was looking into constructing a robot using a sort of external magic—magic extracted from a person. Obviously, the research was unethical and my father convinced her to call it off but…it inspired me to create my own spells, to channel that external magic while it’s in it’s living vessel rather than transferring it to a mechanical body.”

“I…” She frowns. “I don’t understand.”

He stands up in front of her. “I started my work because I’ve realised that the system of our so called ‘rulers’ is failing. The princesses and the whole idea of a monarchy is outdated and if a real threat ever came to Etheria then they’d crumble completely. I created all of this as a statement, to show how power can be used, and try and promote change.” Arcan explains. “If we can defend and govern ourselves without the need of people lucky enough to be born connected to a gemstone, then our entire society would be so much better for it.”

Light Spinner shakes her head. “That’s not true! Angella is the nicest princess in the world, and her parents are fair and just rulers. They’ve brought peace to Etheria, long lasting peace!”

“Sure, Angella’s fine.” Arcan concedes. “But can you account for Angella’s children, and then their children? Basing the ruling of a kingdom on one family line isn’t a reliable form of leadership, surely you can see that? There’s bound to be some who aren’t born with the kind of skills needed, the kind of power required to look after an entire kingdom—or what happens if a princess decides she doesn’t want children? What happens if the line dies out, Light Spinner, can’t you see that the monarchies aren’t sustainable or reliable in the long term—that redefining the system with power rather than privilege would make our world so much better?”

“No, I can’t.” She shakes her head. “The princesses have dealt with every problem Etheria has ever faced well. And I still don’t see how this links with you cursing me!”

“I didn’t curse you, I blessed you.” Arcan insists. “I’ll be performing the ritual on myself soon enough. I needed to prove that true power doesn’t come from a bloodline or a gemstone, but from those who take it—those are who deserve to rule Etheria. We need to vanquish the monarchies so that a new ruler can rise, one that’ll combine all the kingdoms and make us one big, stronger state. With this power, with this unlimited power I’ve created in you, everything I imagined is possible.” He leans forward and brushes his hand gently against her jaw. “Everything we can imagine is possible. Anything you could ever want, Light Spinner, I’ll give it to you. It’s for you, and for Etheria. I’m working to make our society a better place.

“The moons are coming together tonight, and I’m going to perform the ritual on myself. Be with me, Light Spinner, fight for good! Help me make the world a better place.”

Hands shaking, the sorceress violently shakes her head and backs away. “No, I…I can’t, and I won’t. I need to…I need to be on my own.” She sprints away, leaving Arcan alone in the pool, clothes dripping with water and mind burning with a hundred things and nothing.

She so confused. Because what he’s saying does makes sense, or at least some parts fo, but how can she think that, when her best friend is a princess herself? Because she doesn’t agree with how he’s going to go about it, cannot condone unprompted violence like that but has to believe it comes from a place of good, a place of caring, right?

Her love for Arcan is erratic and confusing, always has been, but also the only reason she’s made it this far in Mystacor, the only reason she made it here in the first place. This has always seemed justification enough for her to be with him, to follow him and help him…and that’s why it hurts that she can’t quite convince herself anymore.

Light Spinner runs to her room at the top of a tower and sobs into her pillow, ignorant to what’s about to happen.

Angella tends to go to bed early most nights, the older she gets the longer her days become, the more responsibility her parents carefully load onto her shoulders. Not that she minds, really—devoting her life to her people is what she was born to do and does genuinely find the work fulfilling if not a little tedious at times, and has always known that this was what her life would become.

For whatever reason, this night she decides to go out for a fly before she retires to her bedroom. It’s not something she finds she has much time for anymore but remains a favourite activity even if she doesn’t have Light Spinner to fly around with anymore. Her wings have grown since she was a child, they’re stronger and bigger and she can soar for hours without getting tired, the feeling of the wind in her hair and the world moving on miles below her is one she finds relaxing above all else.

One day, in the obscure future, when she finds the time, she’ll probably fly to Mystacor to visit Light Spinner, something she has unfortunately been lax in doing recently. They still write to each other, of course, but it’s not quite the same as face to face contact and she does really miss her friend. More than that, she’d quite like to learn some more about the new relationship that seems to have blossomed between Arcan and Light Spinner, something initially she had been all for (all those years ago it was Angella who pushed them together after all) but now, with the way her friend talks about him in her letters, she’s become a little…concerned.

It’s probably nothing, Light Spinner is adult enough to know what she’s doing, but still Angella can’t help but worry about her. She knows Arcan too, though not nearly as well, and is sure he would never do anything to hurt her.

So caught up in her thoughts Angella almost doesn’t notice the commotion that’s broken out in the castle in her absence—but a large hole in the castle wall and fire in all of the west wing is something quite hard to miss. Her face contorts in shock at the sight and she soars down as fast as she can, finding one of the servants who seem a little burnt running out and asking what happened.

“I don’t know—he was a madman, a madman came in, with powers like a god!” She cries, running further out of the castle. Angella takes off again towards the fire, batting her wings as hard as she can to blow the flames out the best she can and helping to get the trapped people out.

Who could have done this? She thinks miserably, magicking a ceiling up for two of the maids to scuttle off and then dropping it with a large crash. How did this happen so quickly?

One of the palace guards runs up to her on foot and calls up. “Princess!” He cries, and satisfied there’s no one else trapped in the building, Angella swoops down to greet him.

“Is everyone accounted for?” She asks.

“Yes, everyone except…” He sighs and looks down. “I’m sorry, princess. The attacker went straight for you and your parents’ chambers, there was nothing we could do. We’re only lucky you were out.” The guard looks visibly upset. “The King and Queen are gone.”

All the blood drains out of Angella’s face, and her knees buckle under her.

Chapter Text

Light Spinner feels nothing but dread in her stomach when she wakes up the next morning, dried tears dry and invisible on her cheeks. Something feels terribly wrong, awfully out of place, but she hasn’t a clue as to what.

This feeling of dread isn’t improved at all by her door being practically knocked down by Norwyn and two sorcerer guards standing behind him, protective spells already projected out in front of them as if she’s going to attack. “You need to come with us, Light Spinner.” He teacher says. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard him sound so serious. “The guild has some questions for you.”

“Wh—Why?” She asks, pulling her legs to chest. “I haven’t done anything wrong! What’s happening?”

“Come with us, Light Spinner.” Norwyn narrows his eyes at her. “Or you shall be made to.”

Not wanting any sort of confrontation, Light Spinner gulps and puts her hands up to show no hostility, desperately confused as to why this is happening. Do they know about the ritual—did Arcan say something to get her in big trouble? Is this some form of revenge for leaving for him, or is this about something completely different?

She has a hundred ideas and none, and her hands are shaking in worry.

Making sure she’s got someone on all sides, Norwyn leads her across the building to the prisons that she barely knows exist, only used in situations that go far beyond scholarly misconduct. A thousand more terrible thoughts run through her head but none of them are coherent, so she tries to stop thinking until someone can tell her what’s going on. That, in itself, is easier said than done as the sorcerers cuff her and then lead to a foreign room that has the word ‘interrogation’ on the door.

Light Spinner sits what feels like an eternity by herself in the room until Norwyn returns, lines on his face creased in a worry that she hasn’t seen in him before.

“I haven’t done anything.” She repeats, looking at him desperately for some sort of answer, some sort of explanation. The elder sorcerer glares down at her.

“That remains to be seen.” He sniffs and stands over her. “Where were you last night?”

“My room. Asleep.” She says. “What’s happening? Why are you doing this?”

“Last night there was an attack on Bright Moon.” Norwyn says, taking a step back.

Light Spinner gasps. “Angell—princess Angella, is she alright? Is she hurt?”

“You tell me.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You think—you think I did this?” Light Spinner feels anger building up in the pit of her stomach. “Why would you—I grew up there, I love Bright Moon, why would I ever—Is Angella okay?”

Norwyn glares at her. “The guild finds it suspicious that this attack just happens to coincide with the disappearance of Arcan, a star student who happened to spend a lot of time around you. You’re place here was skating on thin ice as it is, so what was it, Light Spinner?” He leans down, so close to her face that she can feel his breath on her cheek. “Some sort of revenge against the guild? An act of misplaced retaliation with dark magic?”

She grits her teeth. “No—and if Arcan is missing, and it was magic that attacked Bright Moon, don’t you think you’ve already got your culprit?”

Norwyn clicks his tongue. “I struggle to believe that the brightest student in Mystacor would ever do anything to harm anyone. You, on the other hand, have a history of dabbling in powers that are forbidden to you.”

“What?” She exclaims. “That’s a lie, and you know it!”

“Then I shall ask you again, Light Spinner. How did you fix your voice?”

“I—Arcan did it! Is that what you want to hear, the truth, how I broke the rules and let him defy nature and help me?” She shouts back. “I don’t know what I ever did to you for you to hate me so much, but I do know that your instincts are misguided. Arcan is the one who fixed me, okay?”

Norwyn looks genuinely surprised. “That…that makes no sense whatsoever, you must be lying.”

“Doesn’t it?” She looks away, blinking away tears. “He’s brilliant, you know that. Why is it so unbelievable that he might want to be greater than your rules allow? He did it because he loves me, because he thought if I had a voice then maybe you’d take me seriously!” She shuts her eyes, not sure if even she believes that anymore but not prepared to mentally unpack that right now. “I should have known it would never work.”

“If it is Arcan who attacked Bright Moon, the explain to me why. And how.”

Her instinct is to lie and defend Arcan, as she has so many times before, and as she feels she must do now. But…he lied to her, and if what Norwyn says about Bright Moon is true, then he attacked those who she loves the most and she cannot forgive that. Angella taught her to be strong and independent and somehow she’s lost that at Mystacor, without her friend to help her, and even if it takes the fools that call themselves a guild kicking her out of Mystacor accusing her of atrocities to realise it the sorceress knows she needs to be better, be stronger and be somewhat honest. Light Spinner forces herself to meet her teacher’s eyes and glares right back at him. “I’m going to tell you what I know not because I want to help you, and not because I have an adherence to what the guild considers law. I tell you what I do because I love Angella and I need you to let me go so I can find her.”

He looks like he wants to respond angrily to that comment but manages to hold it in. “Speak.”

“Last night, Arcan told me why he worked so diligently on creating new spells to increase power—how he resents the ruling system in Etheria, believes monarchies are weak and inconsistent and that we need reform. I…disagreed, and then left him.” She looks back down. “He was working on a spell that concentrates immense magical power in a human vessel, so the caster can do anything, really, without the need of incantations or runes. Like a princess with a gemstone, but…more powerful.”

“And you believe he conducted the spell, and then attacked Bright Moon?” Norwyn asks and she nods. “Why didn’t you stop him? If what you say is true you are a disgrace to—”

“I DIDN’T KNOW!” She screams which startles him. “You think I let him do anything, Arcan does what he wants! And if I had known he was going to attack Bright Moon of course I would have tried to stop him, but I didn’t know. I was upset and tired and left before anything happened, I had no idea what he was planning. Now, please, let me go!”

“Where is Arcan going next?” Norwyn presses.

“I don’t know! But if he conducted the ritual successfully then he’s unstoppable, wherever he goes.” She tugs at her handcuffs. “Let me go!”

Norwyn shakes his head. “I think not, Light Spinner. You have shown yourself to be, if nothing else, an accomplice and I cannot in good conscience let you out back out where you can cause more harm.”

“No!” She cries but is ignored as Norwyn leaves the room and shuts the door behind him with a resounding clang. Light Spinner seethes in her seat, struggling against the handcuffs.

Closing her eyes and focussing, Light Spinner channels the magic inside her and focusses on the cuffs, generating just enough energy to blast them off. She expects the guard to burst into the room at the noisy interruption but they do not so, a little concerned, the trapped sorceress stands up and looks through the barred window, to see said guard passed out by the door.

She frowns, wondering how that happened, and then casts a traditional levitation spell to snatch the keys from the guard’s belt. It’s…surprisingly easy to get out of the prison, really they should have cast some sort of protective barrier around her or something. Maybe they did, but it dropped when the guard passed out for unknown reasons, but if so, it was a very weak one.

Maybe Norwyn still doesn’t think she’d ever need anything beyond a wall to keep her trapped. Maybe he’s still underestimating her, but for once that seems to have worked out in Light Spinner’s favour.

Light Spinner runs back up to her room, avoiding the prying eyes of all the sorcerers as she does so, to try and find Arcan’s notes, to see if he left anything behind that might be able to help her defeat him. There is no doubt in her mind that he’s responsible for the attacks and even though she completely disagrees with Norwyn’s accusations of her, she cannot help but feel partially at fault. Maybe if she hadn’t just left, maybe if she’d warned someone about what he said…

She shakes her head, digging through her draws to find the notes. Once they find out that she’s out of her cell the first place they’ll look for her is her room so it’s best she gets out as soon as possible. The book she’s looking for happens to be tucked underneath the mask she wore to the princess prom all those years ago, when she first met Arcan and all of this began, and she feels her heart sink.

The sorceress picks up the since abandoned pieces of fabric and runs her thumb across it before securing it behind her ears. She then takes the notes and bolts out of the window, off to find a secluded spot where no one will find her to try and fix this mess.

She does find a place, in the gardens where they grow plants with magical properties that’s generally abandoned since most find the merits of botanical magic less potent that other forms and starts to aggressively flick through his notes. Most of it is just little comments on the sides of sketches, other confirmations of what he’s already told her—about the body burning up without returning to the healing pools for too long, about the pain of the process which he had neglected to mention.

It also illustrates the fact that the power is not charged by nothing—the entire process of bending energy requires one to take it in one form and change it to another, in this case said energy is life itself. It cannot be created or destroyed—only converted, and only those with enough raw magical power can do so on demand. Light Spinner frowns and then lets spirals of gold magic fly from her palm, only to realise that as she does so the grass underneath her begins to die. It explains why the guard had passed out—there were no plants to take energy from in the prison so the fuel for her to break off her handcuffs had to come from the nearest living source, the unfortunate guard outside.

A small use like that isn’t enough to kill someone—she had checked the guard wasn’t dead—but Light Spinner imagines it wouldn’t be difficult to drain someone of their life force completely. The thought of Arcan doing that to Angella comes into her mind and she has to swallow thickly to try and banish the urge to cry.

She pushes the book to the side, burying her face in her hands. How could she have let him manipulate her like that—how could she have trusted him with her magic, body and soul? She walked into that ritual unknowing but willing, had never believed for a second before that he ever might have any intention other than to help her. It seems so clear now that she was just a test subject—a lab rat for him to practice magic on until it was safe enough to use on himself.

To think, the Guild have viewed her as the bad influence all this time.

She could try and hunt him down before he makes it to his next target, but she wouldn’t know where to begin, and he’d probably get there before she could get to him. In one on one combat she could probably stand a chance against him, her powers are just as elevated as his, but he is also the more experienced sorcerer so there is no guaranteed advantage, especially since the Guild would be chasing her down at the same time.

He’ll have to come back to Mystacor relatively soon anyway, he’ll need to recharge the healing pools if he’s going to live out much longer than a week or so. Taking a risk like leaving to quickly means he believes himself strong enough to take on every sorcerer in Mystacor, and he’s probably right. They can’t run, doing so would only give him easier access to the pools but defending them outright might too be suicide.

Light Spinner sighs. How can you defeat someone like that, who has no regard for who he hurts—for an anarchist corrupted with his own ambition?

(Someone that, even though she hates him, she also loves very deeply).

She thinks back to what seems forever ago, when she and him were still friends and he first offered the idea of casting spells on her—to get her a voice. She had been hesitant even then, though had assumed afterwards it was for nothing since it worked wonderfully. Thinking that it had been a simpler version of body altercation to lead up to the ergo kinesis spell is…well, it feels like a stab in the heart.

Back then her biggest priority had been designing an invisibility spell so she could walk around at night without anyone noticing her. Back then things had been so very simple.

An invisibility spell!

The sorceress is up on her feet immediately, notes discarded on the ground as her mind races with ideas. They can’t run from Arcan and his power, but he won’t be able to keep going for long if he can’t find Mystacor to begin with. The spell had only really worked on small objects and she’d abandoned it once her voice was fixed but if she can project it over the entire city, which is just one floating object…

Then she can defeat Arcan without even having to fight him.

The spell itself required, in theory, some dust made from the crystals in the Lunarium since their properties are highly potent in magic—something she learnt from Arcan himself—but she’s going to need a lot more than one if she’s going to hide an entire city. Generally, the Lunarium is swimming with sorcerers, all of which want to take her into custody. If she’s going to get anywhere near it, she’s going to need a pretty big distraction first.

Her new powers mean it’ll be easy enough to create a large explosion that will attract everyone’s attention long enough for her to get in and out of the Lunarium with everything she needs but the question lies as to what she’s actually going to destroy. It has to be far enough away from the Lunarium that no one would be around in those corridors, but something important enough that it will genuinely pose as a substantial distraction.

Light Spinner’s lips curl into a small smile as she starts to head over to Norwyn’s quarters.

(She chooses this as her target purely for convenience! It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she hates his guts, nothing at all.)

Her anger is no so strong that she desires to kill him, so she makes sure he’s not inside before blasting it with as much power as she can channel for a small moment that completely drains the grass beneath her feet but is totally worth it for the sheer hysterics that develop in all the sorcerers around her at the noise. Mask secured around her face, Light Spinner falls back into the corridors and hides behind one of the old statues, waiting for the bulk of people to move before she slinks into the Lunarium.

Noting that it’s clear, she grabs as many crystals off the wall as she can hold, quickly realising that crushing all of these using a press is going to take forever—time she doesn’t have. The crystals need to be fused, the more crystals the more power, but if she can’t break them then…

Her hands tingle with power resting just beneath her skin, and Light Spinner realises that if she can’t break them up she’ll have to melt them down and fuse them together—rather than creating a vat of powder, she’ll have large crystals that can channel the same amount of power.

She drops the crystals into a few piles at her feet and closes her eyes, reaching out to the greenery outside, channelling the life energy within it. A beam of golden light erupts from her hands and focusses directly on the first pile of crystals, and it takes significantly more energy that Light Spinner would have liked but eventually they start to melt and fuse, becoming one large crystal. She repeats the process until she has multiple larger stones, like lunar lenses, fully fused and ready to be used.

Her body is exhausted and she can hear the footsteps of sorcerers heading back inside the building, presumably noticed the blackened state of the greenery outside, and knows that there is no time to waste. Not even waiting a second to catch her breath, Light Spinner lifts the enlarged crystals and brings them all the centre of the room, the ceiling opened in the light of the moons which are fading with the day.

“Light Spinner!” It’s Norwyn, in the doorway, looking frazzled and a shocked at the sight of her. “Stop, whatever you’re doing! Arrest her!”

Guards rush at her and Light Spinner cries out in frustration, turning her arms around her and drawing golden sparks into her grasp. The air becomes electric as the magic around her swells around her and grows hot and frozen at the same time, so like the first time she felt something like this—when they had been casting light spells, which feels like so long ago—and the sheer power in her grasp shocks and delights her.

Magic has a source in everyone, a trigger within an individual, a deep and personal source from which it can grow and flourish. It is only now that Light Spinner realises that hers is borne of anger.

The golden energy around her starts to spin rapidly, blasting away any guard who tries to penetrate it and her body physically starts to rise above the floor, hands outstretched in focus. Her skin is starting to burn but it’s easy to ignore in favour of the sheer control she has, the complete power in the room that people like Norwyn and all her ‘prodigy’ classmates can’t even begin to contest with. The fused crystals start to rise around her in the light, reflecting light onto one and another.

Once it reaches the top, Light Spinner lifts her arms and projects the beam as far as she can, screaming with effort and the pain of the magic starting to seep back through her skin and into the environment around her. A scream escapes her as the pain worsens, the energy reaching such a peak that her eyes glaze over gold and her head is screaming at her to stop, to let it go, to let the pain end.

The reflected shield starts to envelop Mystacor and the sorcerers around her stand helpless to do anything about it below her. Had she been in a less physically distressed state, then perhaps Light Spinner would have twitched her finger just enough to send a drawing Norwyn sprawling onto the ground (his offensive spells are proving rather useless) but she’s not, so she doesn’t, and once she can feel the enlarged crystals holding the spell without her power boosting it she lets it go and collapses on the ground with a sickening crack, black-red blood seeping onto the ground around her.

Eventually she wakes up strapped down to a bed in Mystacor’s infirmary. She doesn’t have the energy to be angry about it.

She does have the energy to groan in exasperation as she sees Norwyn at her bedside, and promptly re-shuts her eyes. “Go away.” She croaks, trying to turn away.

He leans forward and, to her surprise, undoes the straps around her wrists. “You kept falling off, we had to keep you from hurting yourself. We were worried about your headwound reopening.” He tells her, a lightness to his tone which is entirely foreign to Light Spinner. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Wh—Why?” She blinks, opening her eyes to stare at him.

“Because…” Norwyn sighs and can’t quite meet her eyes. “I am not so proud a sorcerer than I cannot admit when I am wrong. And beyond any personal feelings, we have great need of the power within you, no matter how it was acquired.”

Light Spinner frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Arcan has killed the rulers of Dryl, the Kingdom of Snows and Plumeria in the three days you were unconscious. His identity has been confirmed, and we are powerless to stop him, any who try and fight back have been annihilated.” Norwyn sighs. “I was…wrong about him, and I hope I was wrong about you. The power you demonstrated clearly contends with his, and I must ask you to use it for the betterment of Etheria. The situation is dire.”

The younger sorceress shakes her head. “No. I can’t…I won’t fight him.”

“Why not? Surely your personal feelings are outweighed in this matter.”

“I’m sure you realised I put an invisibility spell around Mystacor by now.” She pushes herself up into a sitting position, her limbs protesting with an ache slightly. “His powers, like mine, are not unlimited. It was created in the healing pools so must be replenished at relatively regular intervals. If he can’t reach the pools soon then…” She trails off, looking down. “Well, you know. And he won’t find Mystacor like this.”

“If this is true, then you have the Guild’s everlasting thanks.” Norwyn says. “But there is still time, time in which he could cause severe damage. We cannot allow it to continue any longer, he must be apprehended now.”

“You do it then!” She snarls. “I don’t owe you or the princesses anything, and I’ve already solved your problem. You don’t get to ask anything more of me.”

The elder sorcerer leans forward. “And what if his next target is Princess Angella?”

At that she stops, her muscles tensing at the name. Her invisibility spell that will inevitably kill Arcan is for Angella—to protect her, and eliminate the threat, and since Arcan had already been to Bright Moon she’s making the assumption that he won’t be back. That whatever his feelings for the monarchies, he won’t hurt her knowing how much she means to Light Spinner, and that underneath all the horror he must have carry some semblance of feeling for her.

The sorceress bites her lip. “I can’t leave Mystacor for long, even if I wanted to, with the magic inside me. I’m the same as him.”

“But replenish it now, and you will outlast him.” Norwyn says.

She sighs. “I…I will go to Bright Moon. I won’t go after him directly but…I will protect Angella.” That is not to say that Angella necessarily needs protecting—the truth is it’s her who’s been protecting Light Spinner their entire lives—but neither of them have fought anyone with power like her own of Arcan’s, and she’s not prepared to leave her best friend, the person she loves more than anything else in the world, alone right now. Norwyn, curse him, is right.

The older sorcerer nods tersely. “Good. On behalf of the guild of sorcerers, and Mystacor as a whole, we thank you.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want your thanks; I do none of this for you.” Her eyes meet his. “But you all owe me an apology.”

Norwyn has the decency to look sheepish. “You’re not wrong, Light Spinner.”

After taking a bath in the pools which helps her to regain her strength, Light Spinner wastes no time in returning to her chambers, which somehow feel to foreign to her now—reminiscent of the first time she returned to her mother’s room after moving upstairs with Angella. It’s full of books that she’s yet to return, pots of ink and piles of collected letters from her friend over the months—there are a few items of clothing strewn on the floor—some of it, she notes sadly, is Arcan’s.

It doesn’t take her long to pack up a small bag and leave her dorm hastily.

Walking through the invisibility spell and out of Mystacor feels like a ton of bricks have been pushed off her shoulders, and while the city of sorcerers has become a home of sorts to Light Spinner it’s never made her feel as safe and happy as Bright Moon did. There is some joy, she supposes, in having a place that represents her own strides in independence, no matter how unsuccessful they seem to have been, but there’s something about going back to her childhood home, the place where she grew up and spent her happiest years, that is just so much better than being at Mystacor.

It’s a shame that the reason she’s returning is so sad. Hearing that Angella’s parents have been killed and that she indirectly aided the cause of their death hurts Light Spinner deeply—she didn’t really know them well but owes them a lot, they certainly did a lot more for her than her own mother ever did. They were kind and good rulers, and it will have crushed Angella to be without them—sometimes those with immortality can forget that, in moments of peril, they are just as mortal as everyone else. The death of any of the angels isn’t something Light Spinner had been expecting to experience at all throughout her lifetime.

The gates of Bright Moon are tall and imposing in front of her—half the castle has scaffolding built around it, and scorch marks burnt into the walls. The sight of her home having been attacked like that angers her more than she was expecting, and her fists clench at the thought that a power like her own is responsible for it.

Normally her friend would be running out to greet her but it’s not as if Light Spinner had the time to warn Angella of her impending arrival, and even if she had the chaos all around her seems more than enough to keep anyone preoccupied with more important things let alone the new Queen. They’ll be a coronation soon which takes weeks of strenuous planning, and a funeral, and a total reconstruction of half the castle which will take ever more time.

Perhaps, Light Spinner thinks as she walks through the gate into the castle, it’s for the best that there’s so much going on right now. If she’s got something practical to focus on then Angella should be able to keep herself going rather than let any sort of grief consume her, though the truth is. Even though her mother is now a distant figure, she herself never felt any sort of familial grief like that so can’t properly understand it.

(Or so she likes to pretend, anyway).

She finds Angella in one of the meeting rooms talking with guards about security, most likely, so Light Spinner leans against the door frame silently and waits for her to finish. She had known from Norwyn that Angella had been unharmed in the attack but seeing her well and functioning serves as a relief anyway. If Arcan had hurt her, if he had dared, then…

Light Spinner shivers at the thought, waiting for her friend to notice her. When she does, eventually, her face explodes with joy and she runs over to wrap Light Spinner in a crushing hug. “I—What are you doing here?” She pulls back after a moment. There are worry lines on her face that weren’t there before, and the sorceress feels her heart sink at the sight of them.

“I came to see you, to protect you.” She says. “I can’t stay forever, but—”

“Good luck leaving again.” Angella grabs her hand and squeezes it, gesturing for the guards to leave them. “After everything that’s happened…you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“I might have an idea.” She smiles gently, squeezing her hand back, once again reminded why she loves Angella so much.

Chapter Text

Angella, someone who has a lot of responsibility and power thrust upon her in what feels like an instant, seems almost worryingly comfortable with the whole scenario. This, and a few other things, make Light Spinner increasingly nervous.

Most of Light Spinner’s time in Bright Moon for the first few days is spent just shadowing Angella, sitting through endless meetings regarding preparations, catering and repairs to the castle, taxes and crop yields and stupid colour schemes—she no longer has to wonder why the old king and queen had such little time for their daughter, and even then they were splitting the responsibility between the two of them. Through all of it Angella remains remarkably poised and attentive, and if she didn’t know her so well Light Spinner might not have noticed the way she gently pinches at the inside of her arm to keep her focus, or the way her short, concise replies speak volumes about how little she wants to be there.

So, after two days of enduring this, Light Spinner decides it’s her responsibility to give Angella a break as her protector but also as her friend. Her time in Bright Moon is very much on the clock, and while Arcan is still out there he himself won’t have long left on the off chance they do see him so she doesn’t think it’ll be the end of the world if she pulls the new queen away from her responsibilities for just a couple hours.

When she broaches the subject, Angella sighs and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Light Spinner. I really need to read these expense reports for the repairs and I—”

“They’ll still be here and eager to be read in three hours, but I’m not going to be here forever.” She hasn’t told Angella about the reason she can’t stay but has tried to make it clear that this arrangement isn’t forever as to not cause too much upset when she leaves abruptly next week. “Come on, exploit me! Come out flying with me, like we use to when we were little?”

The angel sighs. “I don’t know…”

“Please.” Light Spinner pouts, sitting Angella’s desk so she can’t look at her documents. “For me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but there’s so much to do and I can’t just stop because I fancy it.” Angella tells her. The sorceress sighs but makes no attempt to move off the desk, resting her cheek in her palm. “You’re in my way.”

“Am I?” Light Spinner flashes her pointed canines in an evil grin.

“Yes, so if you wouldn’t mind moving yourself to the chair.” Angella frowns, crossing her arms.

“I’m quite comfortable here, actually, so I might just stick around.” She stretches her arm with a crack which makes the new queen wince. “If you want me to release your precious documents then I suppose you’ll just have to make me.”

Angella groans. “I don’t have time for this!”

“Neither do I, but here we are.” She pulls the paper from under her ass and holds it out of Angella’s reach as she tries to grab them. “This stuff is dull; I can’t believe you’re choosing it over me.”

“Give it back!” Angella exclaims, reaching up to her.

“Don’t think I will.” The sorceress jumps off the desk past her friend and rushes out to the window, holding paper out into the air.

“You can’t just hold my papers hostage, Light Spinner.” Angella groans and massages her temples. “You’re acting like a child.” At that comment, Light Spinner lets go of the documents and they start to blow away in the wind.

“Light Spinner!” Angella cries angrily, running up to the window. Her wings ruffle in her annoyance. “Why would you do that? You know I can just fly out and get them, if I want to.”

The sorceress seems to contemplate this, running her tongue over her teeth. “You could,” She concedes, leaning out the window to watch the paper being blown away. “But I guess it’s about priorities.”

Angella frowns. “What are you talking about?”

The sorceress throws herself out of the high window with a resounding laugh.

Angella exclaims in surprise and is straight out of the window after her, diving down as fast as her wings can take at her to catch her friend. What would possess her to do something so stupid, so dangerous and reckless—there’s no guarantee that she’ll even be fast enough to catch her before she hits the ground and—

Her arm swings under Light Spinner’s falling form just a couple of metres above the ground and she pulls up instantly, holding her friend tightly against her. She thinks she might explode with anger at Light Spinner’s outright stupid actions but before she can the sorceress bursts out laughing, wrapping her arms to her hands meet behind Angella’s shoulders, her legs keeping her afloat around Angella’s waist.

“Why would you do that!” Angella cries, holding her tighter.

“I had to get you out of the room somehow.” Light Spinner tells her. It occurs to her in the moment quite how close her and the angel are to each other, how she can feel Angella’s breath ghosting on her face, the panting of her chest against her own. The thought, unexpectedly, excites her. “And now we’re out, we might as well go for fly, right? Who knows when I’ll be able to convince you to get this far again?”

“I don’t think a suicide attempt counts as ‘convincing’!” Angella exclaims, but it’s clear her resolve is beginning to weaken.

Light Spinner rolls her eyes. “It was hardly a suicide attempt. I never had any doubt that you’d catch me.”

I’ll always catch you, Angella thinks but doesn’t say, burying her face in the crook of Light Spinner’s neck as her powerful wings keep them in the air. “I was worried. You almost gave me a heart attack, you know that?”

“I like to think that’s in my job description. And you return the favour often enough, I promise.” Light Spinner grins. “Let’s go to the woods, no one will bother us there.”

The angel thinks about protesting on the grounds of her work but if Light Spinner is already leaping out of windows to get her attention then, in terms of life preservation, that’s probably not the best idea so she grudgingly nods. Trying valiantly to hold back her smile as she holds her friend tight by the hand Angella soars over to the Whispering Woods. The sight of Light Spinner swinging her legs gleefully below is just enough to coax a proper smile out of her.

Eventually she lands in a tree like she did when they were younger, out of breath with Light Spinner held close to her. It almost funny how, now they’ve stopped growing, that naturally she’s about seven inches taller that Light Spinner—something that the sorceress will vehemently deny to anyone who asks—and can’t tell if it’s a little magic or some massive wedges that are making her tall enough to be almost level heads. It’s only after a long moment that the angel realises that she’s been staring into her friend’s eyes for quite a long time.

She waves her hand over Angella’s face playfully. “Still with us?”

“Sorry…sorry, I was just thinking.” She shakes her head.

“You do entirely too much of that nowadays.” Light Spinner tells her.

Angella hums, not quite in agreement or disagreement, looking over to the moons in the sky. She doesn’t notice a wet leaf under her foot as she does and slips with a yelp, falling back off the branch until Light Spinner quickly wraps her arm around her waist and hoists her back up. Angella finds herself blushing at her mistake and looks down in embarrassment. “Thank you.”

“I guess we’re even now.” Light Spinner flashes her the signature carnivorous grin. “You know, last time we never actually explored the forest itself. You’d think after living in Bright Moon for decades we might have ventured a little further than the odd canopy, wouldn’t you?”

“We didn’t because the forest is dangerous, and you know that.”

“Dangerous for children, perhaps. But both of us seem pretty grown up now, don’t you think?” The sorceress starts to climb down the tree without waiting for a response, and Angella groans, slapping a hand against her forehead.

“One of us doesn’t act like it!” She shouts after her, but still starts to climb down too anyway.

The woods have always felt like an almost foreign concept to Angella despite having grown up right beside them, her parents had always made it very clear that they were not to be entered, and this might be part of the reason she is so taken aback by quite how beautiful they are. Sure, the trunks of the trees are twisted and gnarled, and the air is weirdly humid and cold but there’s an underlying purple hue to the foliage, and little twinkling fireflies floating around all of them. From the look on her face, she’d say that Light Spinner feels the same.

“I didn’t know it was like this.” Angella breathes.

“I suppose that’s part of the risk.” Light Spinner notes. “Often the most beautiful things are the most dangerous.”

“Then you must be the biggest threat in all of Etheria.” Angella says it before her brain can catch up and then blushes violently.

Light Spinner stares at her wide-eyed, mouth hanging open slightly. Her expression them morphs into something of confusion, which leads her to burst out laughing. She doubles over, almost choking as she laughs hysterically, eyes watering with exertion.

Concerned, Angella runs to her and puts a hand gently on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

The sorceress coughs and wipes her hands and stands up properly, still laughing under her breath. “It’s just…that sounded suspiciously like flirting, but it’s coming from you so that feels like some sort of oxymoron.”

Angella scoffs and crosses her arms. “Can’t a girl observe that her friend is very beautiful without it meaning anything?”

“Angie, you just called be the biggest threat in Etheria.”

She feels her cheeks hear up again. “Biggest threat to my sanity more like.”

“Whatever you say, my darling.” Light Spinner grins and taps her forefinger gently against the angel’s nose. “You know, objectively of course, we’d make a pretty handsome couple. The light and beautiful angel of Bright Moon and the little street rat she adopted as a child—that’s a love story and a half.”

“What—you were never a ‘street rat’, Light Spinner.” She bats her friend on the arm. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

The sorceress raises an eyebrow. “What would you call me instead?”

“My best friend. I don’t think anything else needs to be said.” Angella pulls her friend into a hug, sensing that even though she’s been insisting that Angella is the one who needs a break it might be Light Spinner who really needs the one on one time. With everything going on with Arcan it’s been easy to dismiss it in favour of her work, but in the process—since her own relationship with him never got very close—she’s managed to forget the nature of his relationship with Light Spinner, how close they were. “You’ll always be my best friend, Light Spinner. I don’t need anyone else as long as I have you.”

The sorceress blinks, melting into Angella’s arms. “You…you mean that?”

Angella frowns. “Would you ever doubt that I do?”

Light Spinner’s doubts are, given everything that’s happened lately, founded in her own mind even if she desperately wishes they weren’t—but of all the people in the world, Angella is the least likely to ever betray her. She does know this, deep down, and forces herself to believe it. “I…no.”

“Good.” Angella smiles. “Because…because all we have left now is each other. We need to be able to trust each other completely.”

The sorceress nods. “Of course I bel—”

Whatever she’s intending to say is interrupted by a blast of golden light that heads straight for Angella’s head that Light Spinner manages to push her out the way of just in time, both rolling across the grass and crashing into a tree. The sorceress is right back on her feet again, eyes darting around the trees around her to try and find its source.

It’s the dead tree on her left that gives it away before she sees him exactly, and this time her magic gives her enough warning to blast her own shot right back at him, figure obscured by the shadows around him. “Angella, you need to go!” She yells.

“No.” She angel shakes her head. “I wasn’t there for my parents and I won’t leave you. We’ll take him together.”

“But-”

Protests die as Angella pulls her out of the way of another shot and Arcan steps out from the shadows. The first thing they both notice is that he looks terrible. His once soft, warm skin is hollow and gaunt, sticking to his bones as his eyes are burning with gold. He’s walking to them with purpose and an air of confidence, but Light Spinner can see the way his legs tremble from exertion, the way the magic is rotting him from the inside out.

She quickly realises that this isn’t a real fight—he has no chance.

Her first reaction is sheer horror and almost pity for what he has become, but when she remembers that he tried to inflict this very fate onto her this quickly dissolves into anger.

“Leave.” Angella commands, settling into a stance and connecting to the moonstone. It’s not often she uses the magic from her runestone but is prepared to when no other choice presents itself.

“I would love to.” He saunters forward, his voice raw and rasping and dying. “But I can’t seem to find my way home. Care to give me some directions, Light Spinner?”

“No.” The sorceress bites out. “You brought this upon yourself.”

“I thought you loved me.” His eyes fade to their original shade for a moment, and she can see water starting build up in them. “Please, Light Spinner, I love you, help me! I’m dying, I need you to help me!” He stumbles over a root and falls to his knees, looking up to her desperately. She can feel her resolve weakening.

“You used me.” She chokes out. “You’re still trying to use me. I owe you nothing.”

“Please. Desi?” She gasps at the use of her first name and clenches her fists. “I’m begging you.”

The sorceress knows she should just end this now, it’s what Norwyn and the guild would tell her to do. It’s what her mother would have done, it’s probably what Angella’s parents would have had they been given warning of his attack and it’s what, for the sake of the world, she should do. But seeing him lay there on the ground so helpless and weak, sick and dying and lost…her damned heart hurts so much.

Angella steps in front of her and glares at Arcan’s form. “No.”

“No?” He snarls, pushing himself back up to his feet. “Then what are you waiting for? Shoot me down! You know I’m no match for you like this, you know I can barely fight back. Kill me!” He breaks out into coughs and Light Spinner feels tears build up at the back of her throat, she can barely look. “Kill me! I killed the angel’s parents; don’t I deserve it? Don’t I deserve the same treatment? I cursed you with your powers, I lied to you—used you because I saw you were weak and vulnerable!” She chokes out a sob as he says that. “I needed you for my magic, and that was it! When you weren’t sure about letting me use my magic on you, I paid the other students to come and fight me so you’d feel guilty enough to do whatever I wanted—you’re right, I used you from the start! So kill me, take your anger out and KILL ME!”

“NO!” She screams, and it feels like the whole of the forest shakes with her. “Because you don’t deserve to be put out of your misery, you deserve to feel this—to feel everything you did and know that the vulnerable, disabled girl you used has beaten you. I beat you at your own game because I’m better than you, I’m better than everyone else at Mystacor, and it’s finally my turn to make the decisions.”

“Light Spinner—” Angella starts.

Light Spinner lifts her arms, summoning golden energy from the grass around her and spinning the light into coils that dive towards Arcan and wrap around his wrists and legs despite his attempts to shake them off and then pushes him back against a tree, spinning more and more strands around him until he can barely move. Angella can just stand, frozen, behind her and watch.

“You are going to rot here.” The sorceress tells him. “After all, wasn’t this all about making the world a better place?”

She spins away on her heel and looks towards the angel. “Let’s go. I’m sure the guards will be missing you by now.”

Angella blinks, wondering if maybe this is something she should intervene with but finds she can’t because he does deserve punishment for what he did to her parents, and if anyone is intitled to dispense that it’s Light Spinner, isn’t it? So, she wraps her arms around Light Spinner and takes off up and out of the canopies—the moment punctuated with the screams of a dying man.

The next six months are a blur.

Light Spinner leaves shortly after the altercation despite Angella imploring her otherwise—it isn’t healthy for either of them to be alone right now, and without each other that is what they become, completely alone, but the sorceress is insistent.

The coronation takes place within the next month, and that’s the first and only time Light Spinner visits her in that six-month period. They end up venturing underground together to complete the first rite as queen, and while both of them deeply enjoy it and it’s the happiest they’ve been in a while, the sorceress is again quick to return to Mystacor.

The truth is that Angella doesn’t really understand what magic did to Arcan and why, doesn’t know that Light Spinner is physically bound to the healing pools that are keeping the magic inside for consuming her like it did Arcan. If she tries to bring it up the distance between them then she’s quickly brushed over, and when she asks in her frequent letters why Light Spinner won’t stay longer she’s always met with excuses and vague explanations that she accepts for a while knowing that her friend wouldn’t lie to her without reason. But after months and months of this she’s so worried that she decides her duties in Bright Moon can wait for a while as she gets to the bottom of this.

So she, after briefly warning her staff, takes off for Mystacor in the early morning with the intention of arriving just before lunchtime. In all the time that Light Spinner’s been studying at the floating and now invisible city she’s never actually visited her there—normally the sorceress likes to come home, and before her coronation she had many more political ventures that took most of her time to explore. It’s a shame that now the weight of ruling is all on her shoulders that she doesn’t have time for everything she might like to do anymore, attempting to establish the most reliable and functional routes of trade being one of them, but she’s willing to put that to the side over her kingdom or her best friend.

The last time she was here the city was entirely visible to she takes a second to remember the relatively secret entrance point that Light Spinner told her about, and then lets the rock float her up—wings aching a little from the flight and disuse.

Somehow aware of her impending arrival, it is a guild sorceress she can’t quite remember the name of that greets her. Respectfully, the angel nods to her and then tries to slip past.

“Where are you headed, your majesty?” The relatively unfamiliar sorceress asks, smile a little too wide and a little too bright.

“To see Light Spinner, she is a dear friend of mine.” Angella pulls an old letter from her waistband. “I have instructions to her dorm room, I’m sure I can figure it out by myself. I have been here before.”

Something hard to read flashes in the sorceress’ eyes. “Is she aware of your coming?”

Angella narrows her eyes slightly. “No, but I assure you she won’t mind.”

“Well, it would be negligent of me not to assist you in getting there.” The sorceress chirps, and Angella can feel herself groan internally. “If you’ll just follow me!”

Forcing a smile, the angel trails the sorceress into what she knows is the main building, towards the Lunarium (which is definitely not what she remembers as the way to the dorms, but maybe it’s a short cut?) and listens to her babble on about this that and the other, history of Mystacor, origins of runic magic and so on—it feels like Angella’s signed up for a tour rather than a visit to her friend. They stop in the statue corridor, held up by a group of men with tools running to and from a rock they appear to be sculpting.

“They’re building a new statue?” Angella asks, speaking for the first time in this overlong walk.

“Yes! This statue will be of Light Spinner, in fact, for her service to Etheria.” The sorceress tells her. If anything, Angella would have to say that her tone sounds almost bitter.

“It’s true that her invisibility spell was a feat of incredible magic.” Angella says. “She saved many lives including my own with it, I think it’s a good thing that she’s been given a statue.” She stares up at it and frowns. “But…it doesn’t really look like her, does it? I mean, she never has her hair in ringlets like that and…is that a veil?”

“It does look pretty though, doesn’t it?” The sorceress says and Angella raises an eyebrow.

The angel chooses not to address that, the veil leaving a sour taste in her mouth. “I feel like we’ve been walking around aimlessly for a while, so while I thank you for your time, I think it’s probably best if I take it from here.”

“But your majesty—” The sorceress reaches out to stop her. “I…it would be irresponsible of me to…”

“Is something going on here?” Angella asks, reaching the end of her tether. “Because it feels like there’s something everyone is neglecting to tell me.”

“I…” The sorceress sighs and looks to the floor. “Light Spinner is working on something with Master Norwyn now, no one on Mystacor knows what or is allowed to disturb them. I was just supposed to keep you distracted until they come out. I’m sorry for the deception, your majesty.”

She never mentioned anything like that in her letters. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Angella bites her lip worriedly. “Just…if she’s not there, take me to her quarters? I can wait for her there.”

The sorceress nods. “Of course, you’re majesty.”

Light Spinner is feeling exhausted yet exhilarated. After months and months of rigorous work, her and Norwyn finally completed a purging ritual of the magic inside of her—and with no risk of something burning up inside of her, she is free to leave Mystacor as she chooses.

Truth be told, even if she’s refusing to admit it to herself, she’ll somewhat miss the way having that kind of power felt—without that magic she would never have been able to complete the invisibility spell and save Angella from Arcan’s wrath, and the connection with her surroundings through the magic was amplified in a manner that’s completely addictive.

But an object like power isn’t as important to her as having her freedom, being able to see Angella whenever she wants, so overall it is a good thing that she’s lost the power and through it gained somewhat more respect from Norwyn at least, if not any of the other guild members who still somewhat hold her accountable for what happened.

They don’t trust her, even though she saved all their hides, even though she never chose to be the one Arcan chose. Still, she tries not to let it bother her.

So, when she returns to her dorm room, eyed already half shut with exhaustion, she doesn’t notice the angel sitting at her desk reading through one of her books and collapses straight onto her bed with a smile of relief. She then proceeds to scream when a familiar and unexpected voice says: “And what time do you call this?”

Light Spinner shoots right up wide-eyed and stares at the unimpressed queen whose giving her a narrow-eyed stare. “Ang—Angella, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I was worried that you hadn’t come back to Bright Moon in so long.” She frowns. “And then the sorceress tells me you’re locked up with Norwyn all day…what’s going on, Light Spinner?”

“It…” She considers recounting everything but shakes her head. Not now. “It doesn’t matter anymore, because what I was doing with Norwyn is over.” The sorceress smiles and stands, stepping closer to Angella. “I know it’s been too long but…I’m yours for the foreseeable future, no breaks, I promise.”

Angella raises a suspicious eyebrow. “I think you can do better than that.”

“I can—and I will.” She says. “But…right now I’m exhausted, and I missed you, so…” She gulps. “Will you just…hold me, while I sleep? I…well, I’ve always slept better with you next to me.

The angel almost demands a proper explanation because of how worried she is, or even wants to go down a more simple line of questioning about the return of the mask, but Light Spinner looks exhausted, and the truth is Angella’s missed her touch to, so curls up next to her friend on the single bed without another word. Both sleeps better than they have done in months.

Things change, and it’s sometimes hard to tell why.

Angella’s reign is running as smoothly as she could have hoped for, she’s still very young—enormously young, especially in comparison to the age her parents had been—but is mature enough to understand her responsibilities and carry them through effectively. She’s also begun to learn the value of delegation—she may the Queen but that doesn’t mean she needs to personally handle every little thing, so with time has learnt to trust more in her advisors and let them take on some of their own responsibility.

She does this partly because it’s important she not be alone in her ruling, that she listen to the people around her and give them the voice to invoke change where she might overlook it’s need—but would be lying to herself if she said it isn’t mostly because, with Light Spinner officially back at Bright Moon, she has more reason to want free time than ever.

The sorceress returns to Mystacor every couple of months (she has to, since she’s technically still a student) but, as always, much prefers to just teach herself at a pace that fits her best, and has settled into a course of predominantly botanical magic—something that make sense, since her mother practically raised her in the Bright Moon gardens. The highlight of each day for Angella is stepping outside to see her hunched over a book under a tree or talking to her many, many plants as they grow, her touch with plants is infinitely softer than that with most people.

Today she’s picking daisies, which have always been her favourite flower, though for what purpose is not clear. Angella clears her throat as to not scare her, wings fluttering with sheer excitement of knowing that Light Spinner is back home and she’s not going anywhere. The sorceress looks up, green eyes bright in greeting.

“You’re early. Your meeting wasn’t supposed to finish for another twenty minutes.”

Angella shrugs. “What can I say, land disputes aren’t always deserving of a full hour.”

“So you weren’t just too desperate to see me?” Her eyes twinkle with mischief.

“So full of yourself.” Angella mutters, though doesn’t deny it.

“Well, it’s ruined my surprise.” Light Spinner sighs, and pulls a magenta ribbon from her pocket, expertly tying it around the stalks of the daisies into a bouquet. She steps over to the angel and almost awkwardly offers it to her.

“These…for me?” Angella blinks as she takes them, raising them to her nose and inhaling their scent deeply. “Thank you.”

Light Spinner nods. “I just…no, it’s stupid.”

“What?”

The sorceress looks away from her eyeline. “I was just thinking about my mother, and how she used let me keep a daisy sometimes and how happy it made me…I thought, with how stressed you can be sometimes, they might make you happier for a little while too.”

Angella beams at her. “I love you so much, you know that?” She pulls Light Spinner into a tight hug with prompts a startled yelp from her and holds onto her tightly. “So, so much.” She pulls away and plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet, tucking it behind Light Spinner’s ear carefully. The white petals contrast with the onyx of her hair beautifully, and Angella feels her cheeks heat up at the sight.

“Do I look Plumerian now?” Light Spinner asks and poses, jutting her hip out and arching her arm to rest on it. The queen giggles at the sight.

“Almost.” She grins and then sobers. “Light Spinner…could you take your mask off?”

She freezes. “…Why?”

“Because…” In her head, Angella’s telling her it’s because she has nothing to be ashamed of—that she doesn’t need to hide from anyone, not anymore, and anyone who ever makes her feel like that isn’t worth her time. She’s telling her that it’s because she the most beautiful, radiant creature in Etheria and hiding it from the world should be a crime—because Angella loves her, all of her, and watching her be ashamed of the parts of her that were once imperfect hurts. Instead, the angel takes Light Spinner’s hand and brings it to her lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers softly. “Because I love you. I’ve been telling you all this time.”

Light Spinner’s eyes widen in shock and she can’t quite breathe. The feel of Angella’s lips lingers on her hand and all she can think is—is this what I think it is? Is this really happening, gods, I hope so.

Slowly, hesitantly, her clawed fingers reach for her mask and tugs it from one of the clips over her ear, the fabric falling down. A breath escapes her like she’s been holding it for years, and she looks into Angella’s mauve eyes in desperation, looking for—absolution, love, life, a form of mortal enlightenment?

She’s looking for everything, she wants everything, and maybe Angella’s the only one who can give it to her.

The angel’s hand slides up her jaw and their lips meet once, softly, and then again like they’re clinging to a lifeline—like this is all they’ll ever need again.

“This…this is stupid, Angella.”

“I recall you saying something similar last time.” Angella says as she zips up the back of Light Spinner’s dress for her. “But it’s the first time in decades and decades that Bright Moon is hosting princess prom, which means it’s perfect for us to publicly announce that we’re together!”

The sorceress tugs are the pink skirts that flow down to the floor and shivers. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“Better believe it!” Angella chimes, linking her arm with Light Spinner’s. The best thing about this, Light Spinner can concede, is seeing her girlfriend in the deep purple suit she’s chosen this time—something that’s very much a pleasant surprise. She may or may not be fantasising about taking it off later—almost as much as she’s fantasising about Angella ripping off this stupid poufy dress.

She shouldn’t even be complaining because she did pick this dress herself, but she was already a few glasses of wine down by the time they got to the shop and…well, it looked a lot better to her drunk self than it does sober. “As long as I wake up with a crippling headache and no memory of tonight whatsoever, it should be fine.” Light Spinner grumbles.

“I think you’re getting an alcohol problem.” Angella says.

“That was you’re gift to me, my darling.” She boops Angella’s nose and then cackles as her perturbed expression.

The angel seems to return to reality upon shaking her head. “Anyway. If you’re not ready to come out to everyone then we don’t have to, Light Spinner, I mean it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but…”

“But you really want to stop sneaking around.” Light Spinner finished for her. “I get it. And I do want people to know about us, I really do. It’s just…well, it’s a lot, you know?”

Angella nods. “I know. And I love you a lot for doing this for me.” She pulls the veil up and plants a soft kiss on Light Spinner’s lips which is quickly reciprocated. A knock at the startles them away from each other, and a guard enters the room.

“Guests are starting to arrive, your majesty.” They say, and Angella nods, blushing slightly from the interruption.

She looks to Light Spinner. “You don’t think the guards know, do they?”

Light Spinner snorts. “I’m sure they think you screaming my name at three in the morning is purely platonic, my dear.”

Angella blushes crimson and bats Light Spinner on the arm while the sorceress laughs all the way to the hall.

Chapter Text

Their relationship lasts happily for the next thirty years, they are content and comfortable with each other—know each other inside out and have struggle to imagine a life without one another.

Angella’s immortality and Light Spinner’s extended lifespan due to her species means that they don’t have to rush anything, which is ideal for the sorceress in particular. Having completed her studies, she acts as a form of consort to the queen but takes no part in the actual ruling—their relationship is familiar and easy and it’s everything she’s ever wanted. It is in this familiarity that, perhaps, she fails to notice that her girlfriend might not quite feel the same.

Really, she should have known that the angel wouldn’t be content with the arrangement remaining at this pace for the rest of their lives. Should have known that she’d want to get married and have children because she’s been saying so, has said so, for years—but it’s always been something easy enough to dismiss as a problem for Future Light Spinner. It’s not something she wants, at least not yet nor in any near future, and assumes that Angella will find her own way to be okay with that.

In retrospect, that may be a little selfish of her.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Said by her angel, over dinner, is the bomb that tells her that her ignorance has caused more problems that it’s solved.

“It’s not that I don’t love you, I do, more than anything else in the world, and I want to be with you.” Angella says, pushing her food around with her fork and not meeting her eyes. “But I want to be with you as my wife, I want to have a family with you—you know that, and I have tried not to push anything, but you never talk to me about it.” She sighs and bites her lip. “I keep thinking that you’ll come around in a couple years, that you’ll be ready soon but…you never will, will you?”

The sorceress gulps. She doesn’t want this to end. She doesn’t want Angella to leave her alone but…

The alternative, the only alternative it seems, makes her shiver.

“I can…work on it.” She finally says, eyeing her wine glass like prey.

“Don’t promise me something you know you’ll never be able to deliver.” The angel sighs. “Our priorities and goals are too different. You’re work if with sorcery, your own research and you can’t handle the kind of responsibility I have, the kind I’m asking of you. It’s not fair of me to do so, and it’s not fair of you to keep me strung along in an arrangement that’ll make us both miserable.”

She frowns, annoyed by that statement. “Am I not enough for you?”

“It’s not—you know that’s not what I mean.”

“Forgive me for not understanding, then.” She throws the rest of her drink back and then lets the glass roll off on the table. “’I love you, Light Spinner, but I’ll only stay with you if we can get married and have babies and play happy families!’. How else am I supposed to take that?”

“Don’t dismiss me like that! It’s not unreasonable for me to want to have those things with you, Light Spinner!”

“It’s not unreasonable for me not to want them!”

“And this is why we can’t be together!”

Light Spinner’s fist clenches, the glass smashes, and she leaves for Mystacor that night.

They don’t see each other often after that, but letters are exchanged a couple of times a year. Light Spinner tries to put it to the back of her mind most of the time, focus on her students in her newly secured position in the invisible city. Officially, they’ve had to make her a member of the guild itself given her statue but she’s never invited to any meetings (not that she would go even if she were) and still seen as somewhat dangerous by more than half of them, though thinks that when it comes down to it they must trust that she fights for them, right?

When Micah comes along with his sweet little smiles and spiky hair and immeasurable talent, she finds something new to channel her energy into, someone who admires her and loves her in a way she craves and detests simultaneously—but she’ll do anything for him, and can never say no. She tells Angella about him in one of her letters, testing the waters to see if something more personal could perhaps open the gap of the relationship again after years of festering distance—not that she thinks it ever will, really, at this point she’s far too late.

But the angel responds amicably, and she is reminded of their love which has been the backbone of everything she’s ever accomplished in her life, so when she sees the Horde’s threat, she knows that they will stand together to do whatever it takes.

The Horde is strong and their origins unclear—the angel and the other princesses are trying their best to repel them, but the truth is that it’s not enough. She loves to teach Micah but can’t help but feel useless just sitting in Mystacor and pretending everything is fine like the guild tells her to when it’s quite clearly not—but knows that, even if they did attempt to help, they’re never going to get anywhere the type of magic they’re channelling now.

They need magic like the type Arcan made.

The problem is that after the whole situation his notes were promptly burnt and any trace of them have destroyed, but after doing some research and modification Light Spinner has come up with an alternative by modifying the obtainment spell—something that’s typically dark but, with the right work done to it, could be used to eradicate the Horde for good. The guild doesn’t trust her, and it’ll be hard to convince them, but she won’t need to if she can get Angella on board. She hopes that, despite their bitter and abrupt parting years ago, that the queen still trusts her enough to understand and help her.

Returning to Bright Moon isn’t as difficult as she’d thought it would be, emotionally. Perhaps because she enters with a clear goal, maybe she’s more over the relationship that she thought—maybe it’s because, no matter the state of their feelings, she’ll always love Angella and the thought of seeing her in person again makes her very, very happy.

She presents her case to the angel who sits, patiently, listening to her with a neutral expression. The years have been kind to her, as they are with all immortal beings, and she still looks as beautiful as she did when she first reached adulthood more than fifty years ago and while Light Spinner herself looks far younger than her age, the undereye bags have started to set in, and there are some hidden laugh lines she’s started to notice likely caused by Micah.

“You…” Angella frowns. “You’re serious, about this obtainment spell?”

The sorceress nods. “We need to stop shying away from the reality of this situation. It’s imperative that we redirect our focus onto power—it’s what the Horde has in abundance, and what we are lacking.”

“The princesses are doing everything they can, Light Spinner.”

“And it’s not enough.” She narrows her eyes. “Arcan demolished the princesses before with this kind of power, and we can use it to demolish Hordak. It’s the kind of magic I used to hide Mystacor—we know it can be channelled for good.”

“This isn’t the same.” Her voice sounds uncharacteristically firm—or, at least, she never uses it in that tone with Light Spinner. “I…can’t let you do this. It will only end badly.”

The sorceress’ eyebrows shoot up in shock. “I…I thought you’d understand. That you’d support me!”

The angel stands. “I could never support dark magic, and you know this. We’ll find another way, I’m sure of it, but seeking power in darkness is a path to corruption rather than good. With some work, I’m sure we’ll find an alternative.”

“No, we won’t!” Light Spinner steps back and shakes her head. “How are you so blind? People you love are going to die if we do nothing and you of all people understand that!”

“The obtainment spell is parasitic; it doesn’t convert energy like Arcan’s did—it steals it and feeds darkness from it. It would become a horrific addiction, Light Spinner, and if you do it you won’t be able to give the power up when the time comes—I know you.” She shakes her head. “I have to warn the guild about this.”

“You what?!” Light Spinner growls. “Gods, Angella, I thought you still had a little faith in me!”

“I do, you know I do, and that’s why I’m doing this—because I know even if I tell you not to, you’ll still go through with it.” She sighs. “It’s not like I’ve ever been able to stop you before.”

“No, no, NO!” She screams, and there’s a hot anger in her that she hasn’t felt for years. How dare Angella presume to take authority like this, tell on her like a misbehaving child to those who consider themselves her betters—who she is more powerful than already. She can take this level of potency in magic, she’s done it before and she’ll do it again, Angella is wrong. “Don’t you dare.”

Angella looks at her incredulously. “What are you going to do, attack me? Hit me? It’s the right thing to do, Light Spinner, I’m sorry.”

For the first time in years, Thana’s face comes into Light Spinner’s mind and fuels the fire within her. “You can’t just dismiss me like this! Did you ever care about me at all, or was I just your pet pauper, Angella? Sure, be nice to me when it suits you but the second it looks like I might be getting somewhere, like I might be doing something you can’t you’re the first to try and stop me! You’re jealous of me—because I’m better and I always have been!”

“What—no, Light Spinner!” Angella recoils from her. “I’m trying to protect you!”

“I should have seen this before, you’ve always thought you were better than me, you’re holding me back—you’re the only thing holding me back!” She clutches her head as it pulses with clawed fingers. “It’s always been you.”

This is more than a simple disagreement to the sorceress. Angella has always been a place of peace for her, they've known each other since they were children and Light Spinner has always unequivocally trusted her—that fact that she's willing to sacrifice that trust so quickly with no regard for the affect it has on the sorceress, no knowledge of how lonely she has become, how she has nothing but Micah to keep her going in Mystacor and the whole world sees her in a shroud of greed and danger through no fault of her own is horrifying. Has this relationship been like her and Arcan's all along, has her use run out—is now when she is discarded?

“No, Light Spinner, no!” Angella chokes out, her eyes watering up. “I love you! I’ve always loved you—”

“Then why did you make me leave!” The room shakes with the unstable energy coming of the sorceress. “No, you don’t love me, you took advantage of me, you must have, who could ever love me?” Her eyes burn through the angel and her vision’s blury—she’s back in the forest with Arcan and it hurts and she’s angry, so angry—

“I need…I need to get rid of you, you’ve always been in here and—” She taps her head. “It’s time I purge myself of you.”

Angella backs away to the door, horrified at what seems to have taken over her friend but Light Spinner is fast and pounces on her, knocking her to the ground and straddling her waist, eyes hungry and wild and hands poised around the angel’s head. “What are you—”

The sorceress mutters an incantation and her hands start to crackle with red magic that penetrates the queen’s mind. Angella cries out in pain while the sorceress on top of her sobs, strengthening her magic. “Bury me in your memory and I’ll bury you in mine.” She says, almost softly. “I was never the girl you wanted me to be.”

“Desi?” Angella chokes out as the spell nears completion as her face fades out of familiarity. “Desi, please!”

When Angella wakes the next morning, she has no memory of the sorceress Light Spinner—her existence in Bright Moon has been completely erased.

Light Spinner wakes hollow and cold—her life has been full of betrayal and hurt and pain with no Angella in it, and her altered memory no longer has anything to lose.

When they meet again, Shadow Weaver in a cell glancing up at the angelic being through a broken mask, she can see nothing but an enemy. Angella can see nothing but an abuser who damaged children for power and resents her for Adora even if the girl can't find it in herself to do the same, no memory left of the little elven child with a broken tongue who she had played dolls with more than seventy years ago.